


Is It Too Soon to Do This Yet? 'Cause I Know That It's Delicate

by iliveinfantasies



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, AvaLance, F/F, Gen, NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, Other, Summer Camp, help me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 59,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies
Summary: So when Sara opened up the door to their cabin on the very first day of camp to see Ms. stick-up-her-ass herself, standing with her back to the door wearing a perfect bun a nearly-tucked shirt, her only response was a groan and a slightly strangled “oh, no.”Sara saw Ava stiffen, slightly, before spinning around on her heels, hands on her hips. When she saw it was Sara, her mouth slipped into a slight scowl.“I’m sorry,” Ava asked, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. “Is there a problem?”“That depends,” Sara said, raising an eyebrow back. “If you’re my co-counselor, then yes.”Ava scoffed. “Well, I’m not exactly thrilled, either,” she said. “From what I can tell, you and your friends act more like the children than the actual children.”Sara narrowed her eyes, putting her own hands on her hips. “At least I don’t look like a magazine model for ‘Summer Camp Monthly.’”------------Or, "the Avalance summer camp AU that people did actually ask for!"





	1. I've Got a List of Names and Yours Is In Red Underlined

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO friends, followers, Avalance fanatics like myself, etc.
> 
> I'm undertaking this fanfic as something insane. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year, and I'm determined to meet word criteria every day. This means that, yet, this is a 50,000 word Avalance Summer Camp AU. It was inspired by the promo, and the upcoming summer camp episode. But I genuinely hope you stick with me, here. Because there will be Angst! Fluff! Character development! Zari training 8-year-olds to do her bidding! I should be updating every day, and I absolutely love feedback, comments, criticism, WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE HAPPEN, etc. Remember, I have a ton of words to do this.
> 
> I'll be trying my best to keep up with my other fics, too, if possible. Thanks for reading <3\. 
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife, and gush about Avalance! Or whatever else you want, honestly. I like making new friends.

Sara was pretty sure that Ava Sharpe was, hands-down, the worst possible choice for a camp counselor of all time. She had no sense of humor, no sense of fun, and a stick shoved so far up her ass that Sara was fairly certain Ava must have been born with it. What Mr. Hunter, the Camp Director, had been thinking when he chose her for one of this summer’s new counselors, Sara couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Ava was the sort of person that Sara couldn’t imagine ever speaking to a child, let alone her usual group of hellions (whom, though Sara wasn’t really a “kid person,” she’d grown quite fond of in her two years as a camp counselor). When Sara had met her in their counselor training a month prior, Ava had taken one look at her messy ponytail and oversized sweater and sniffed, rolling her eyes like Sara was a particularly annoying toddler.

“ _Must_ you juggle your eraser?” “He’s asking an actual question.” “Seriously, how do you and your merry band ever get anything _done?”_

Every subsequent training after that--once a week, Saturday afternoons, just to make sure the new folks “got the hang of things”--Ava had gotten visibly, progressively more annoyed every time Sara had entered the room. When Sara got loud or goofy with her friends, Ava was there, shooting her disapproving looks and muttering “Some of us are trying to _listen,”_ in an overly-exasperated whisper.

Sara was what they called a “camp veteran”--she’d been attending the camp since she was five (the life of a kid whose parents worked all the time, and her dad being a police officer meant she and her sister had been sent to camp every single summer), and her progression to counselor was just the next step. She didn’t actually _need_ the training, it was just required. She went to training, but she was _bored_. None of her friends did, either--not even Zari, who had only started at camp two years ago. They filled their time in the training by passing paper airplanes, speaking in silent facial expressions, passing notes written in codes so elaborate that even Sara couldn’t have explained it to someone, now, perfected over time after so many summers.

But Sara didn’t bother to say any of that to Ava. Because Ava, being Ava, absolutely, one hundred percent would _not_ have cared. Instead, Sara rolled her eyes as loudly as possible, ignored Ava’s pointed remarks, and continued whatever she was doing.

So when Sara, on the first day, opened up the door to their cabin on the very first day of camp to see Ms. stick-up-her-ass herself, standing with her back to the door wearing a perfect bun and a neatly-tucked shirt, her only response was a groan and a slightly strangled “oh, no.”

Sara saw Ava stiffen, slightly, before spinning around on her heels, hands on her hips. When she saw it was Sara, her mouth slipped into a slight scowl.

“I’m sorry,” Ava asked, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. “Is there a _problem?_ ”

“That depends,” Sara said, raising an eyebrow back. “If you’re my co-counselor, then yes.”

Ava scoffed. “Well, I’m not exactly thrilled, either,” she said. “From what I can tell, you and your friends act more like the children than the actual children.”

Sara narrowed her eyes, putting her own hands on her hips. “At least I don’t look like a magazine model for ‘Summer Camp Monthly.’”

Ava rolled her eyes. “I’m _put together_ ,” she said, gesturing at Sara’s untucked shirt and messy waves. “Unlike some people.”

Sara barked out a harsh laugh, her chest burning with irritation. “ _Put together_ ? No one pulls their _socks_ all the way up, come on. Besides,” she added, pushing her way past Ava toward their separate room. “It’s called _fitting in._ And, you know, being normal? Something that goes a long way when working with kids?”

Sara pushed open the door to the counselor room, letting the door swing shut behind her, not caring if Ava was behind her. She headed toward the bed that didn’t already have a bag on it, taking in the perfectly folded clothes on the bed, the toiletries lined up neatly on top of the dresser. The stack of two books, perfectly placed on the bedside table. She repressed a groan. Sara was not exactly messy, not _really._ But no one would ever mistake her for being neat, either. Whereas Ava Sharpe was clearly the sort of person who organized her shampoo by size and color. It was going to be a very long summer.

The door to the room opened behind her, and Sara closed her eyes, trying to force down the rage simmering under her skin.

“Fitting in?” issued Ava’s voice from behind her, continuing the argument as though Sara hadn’t left. “Really, _that’s_ your best method for working with children? Of course you would, though. I don’t know why I’m even surprised. I’m sure you fit in just fine with the eleven-year-olds.” Her voice rose on the word “fine,” spinning the air into spite between them.

Sara gritted her teeth, spinning around to face Ava. The girl was like a burr in her clothes, insistent and nagging and impossible to get rid of. “And how, exactly,” she asked, voice dripping with mock curiosity,  “do you deal with children? Giving them math problems, correcting their grammar?”

Ava ignored the jab, much to Sara’s irritation. She fixed Sara with a level gaze. “You let them know who the person in charge is,” she said, calmly, now, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sara opened her mouth to say something else—she wasn’t quite sure what—when the wind was knocked out of her by two arms wrapping around her waist. She let out a quiet “oof,” and looked down to see a blonde messy bun and an oversized hoodie. Sara laughed.

“Well,” she said, tapping lightly on the bun. “That _has_ to be Sophie. Glad you’re at camp again this year! But,” she added, with mock sternness, “You know you’re not allowed in the counselor’s room.

Sophie let go, grinning. “I knowwww,” she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “But I heard you were our counselor and I wanted to say hi! And also _duh,_ I’m literally _always_ at camp, every summer.” She bounded out of the room, and Sara heard a loud thump, followed by an over-enthusiastic “DIBS!” echo through the cabin, despite the fact that Sara was fairly certain that no one but them and Sophie were in the cabin yet.

Ava fixed Sara with a _look_ \--one that Sara had a feeling she’d be seeing far more of through the summer. “That,” she hissed, jabbing a finger at the door, “is _exactly_ the sort of thing I’m talking about.”

Sara just shrugged, and grinned, turning toward her duffle bag. She loved camp. It was one of the places that she felt the most at home. And no amount of Ava Sharpe was going to ruin it for her.

* * *

 

Ava, as it turned out, was one of those pitch-black-darkness-to-sleep people. Sara was one of those read-until-she-fell-asleep people. Or toss-and-turn muttering to herself until she fell asleep people.

Either way, she required light, or noise, or _something_ other than the pitch-dark inky blackness surrounding her. Especially at camp where, despite the eerie chirping of the crickets, and the low murmur from the group of eleven-year-olds in the room next to them, everything felt far, far too still, too silent. She didn’t love the dark, if she was being honest; too much silence, too much waiting. Ava, though, clearly did.

“Can you _please_ shut off that light?”

Sara pressed her fingertips to her temples. She’d already spent the better part of the afternoon and evening arguing with Ava in quick, harsh whispers so that their campers wouldn’t hear. “There is absolutely no way you can see that, Ava. You’re wearing a sleep mask.”

“I can see the light _through_ the sleep mask, Sara.”

“Then I guess it’s not a very good sleep mask, is it?”

A huff, a shuffling. Irritated noises that quickly mellowed out into a low, even breathing.

And the darkness, growing darker--she _swore_ it was growing darker--pressing in on her thoughts, seeping into the cracks in her mind like water, growing and expanding until every worry, every weighted concern, was swollen with it, pressing into the sides of her head like a heavy fog.

What was going on was going on here. What was going on without her. What she didn't  _know_ was going on without her. What might be going on, now, without her there. What had happened, the incidents, the--

“Go to sleep, Sara. I can hear you thinking from here, I swear even your _thoughts_ are too loud.”

Sara sucked in a long, sharp breath. Reveled in the feel of it inside her lungs. _The first night is always the hardest,_ she reasoned, even though she knew it was a complete lie.

She wanted to tell Ava to shut the _hell_ up, that she knows exactly nothing, that she has no clue whatsoever could possibly be going on in Sara’s head right now.

But she couldn’t form the words, couldn’t push them past the lump in her throat, growing, absorbing the darkness like the fog in her brain.

So instead she just rolled over, pulled the covers closer in the suddenly chill air, and counted the stars she couldn’t quite see in the sky.


	2. I Don't Like Your Little Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara woke up the next morning to an odd buzzing noise. She furrowed her brow, eyes still closed, and pulled the covers up over her head. The buzzing got louder, followed by a muffled “mmfawa!” Sara groaned. The buzzing continued. Sara pulled the covers off of her head, sat up, and shoved her fists into her bleary eyes. She blinked a few times. There was Ava, standing by her bed, one hand on her hip, the other brushing her teeth with an electric toothbrush.
> 
> Ava stared at Sara for a moment, appraisingly, then went into their bathroom. She emerged two minutes later, clean toothbrush in hand.
> 
> “Sara,” Ava said, “You have to get up. We have to get the girls in gear, too, or we’re going to be late for breakfast. Actually,” she added, glancing at her wrist. Was she wearing a watch? “We’re already going to be late, for sure. So Get. Up.”
> 
> Sara blinked at Ava again, squinting. “Is...is that an electric toothbrush?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. So, I'm setting everything up. I'm taking a little longer than usual because it's a longer fic, and because I'm updating daily. SO thanks for sticking with me, here. 
> 
> Also, full disclosure. I'm definitely pulling on my camp experience for this, and it's pretty fun. I've had a LOT of camp experience.
> 
> Let me know if there's any camp stuff, story plots, etc, that you wanna see in this fic. I'm open to suggestion! I'm feeling okay, since this is my second day and I'm still pretty on track. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! All comments are loooooooved.
> 
> Also, come visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife!
> 
> Check in tomorrow for a new update. I promise we'll get a bit more plot, since I have this weekend off, magically.

Sara woke up the next morning to an odd buzzing noise. She furrowed her brow, eyes still closed, and pulled the covers up over her head. The buzzing got louder, followed by a muffled “mmfawa!” Sara groaned. The buzzing continued. Sara pulled the covers off of her head, sat up, and shoved her fists into her bleary eyes. She blinked a few times. There was Ava, standing by her bed, one hand on her hip, the other brushing her teeth with an electric toothbrush.

Ava stared at Sara for a moment, appraisingly, then went into their bathroom. She emerged two minutes later, clean toothbrush in hand.

“ _Sara,_ ” Ava said, “You have to get up. We have to get the girls in gear, too, or we’re going to be late for breakfast. Actually,” she added, glancing at her wrist. Was she wearing a watch? “We’re already going to be late, for sure. So _Get. Up._ ”

Sara blinked at Ava again, squinting. “Is...is that an electric toothbrush?”

The corners of Ava’s lips twitched downward, and she fixed Sara with a withering look. “Really, _that_ is the only thing you got from this?”

Sara shrugged. “It felt like the most pressing matter at the time, because _who the fuck_ brings an electric toothbrush to _summer camp?_ ”

Ava rolled her eyes. Sara was beginning to think it was the only way they were capable of communicating--pointed jabs and exaggerated eye rolls. Ava let out a long suffering sigh.

“Just...just get up.” Then she stalked out of their room and into the main room where the girls slept.

Sara shoved the covers off of herself, and stood up a little shakily. She always felt a little bit like she had a hangover the morning after bad nights. She tugged her camp shirt over her head, feeling it catch on a tangled piece of hair, and winced a little. She must have moved a lot in her sleep, because she could tell that her hair was tangled. She could hear the rustlings of girls waking up, sleepy voices interspersed by the odd giggle. Sara frowned halfway through tugging on her shorts. Normally, she’d have been woken up by the girls waking up, or her phone alarm, which she purposefully set a solid half hour before . Had she forgotten to set it? She grabbed her phone off her nightstand, and glanced at the time.

5:48 a.m. Of course.

The wake-up call wasn’t until 6:45 a.m, and even then, breakfast wasn’t served until 7:30 a.m. but of course Ava Sharpe thought they were going to be late, somehow, some way, a solid hour and a half early. Sara let out a loud, frustrated half-groan and flopped back onto her unmade bed. She glanced over at Ava’s bed. Of course. Ends tucked in. Pillow propped up against the headboard. Blanket folded down just-so. Just the sight of it was irritatingly perfect. Like Laurel’s stuff always was. She could hear Laurel’s voice now: “If you make it now, it’ll be more comfortable later.” She scrubbed her face with her hands, hard, removing all traces of Laurel’s voice from her head. It was finally the first year Sara would be there at camp _without_ Laurel, overshadowing her, one-upping her. So if there was one thing Sara absolutely did not want to do all summer, it was think about her sister, who was not actually there.

Sara forced out her breath through gritted teeth. She could hear girls complaining in the front room, now, feet running around, voices rising, something that sounded suspiciously like a hairbrush being thrown at the wall followed by a loud “Oh my GOD!” There was, she supposed, nothing to do but get up at this point.

She hopped back out of bed, and pulled on a SCHS soccer sweatshirt over her shirt. Though the days here were deceptively sunny, the mornings were full of fog and chilled air. Sara inhaled deeply; it smelled like grass and salt and lavender shampoo. It calmed her irritation, just a little. She grabbed her makeup bag and headed toward the bathroom, ready to take her time with her eyeliner and mascara.

Maybe Ava had gotten the girls up early, but Sara wasn’t about to make it _easy_ on her.

* * *

 

By the time Sara got out to the front room, the air was brimming with chaos. Two girls were gossiping loudly in the corner about some classmate’s Instagram photo, one girl was throwing her hairbrush in the air and trying to catch it, three girls were braiding each others hair in a circle--though at least that was somewhat productive--and on the other end of the room Ava, more than a little frazzled, was attempting to convince two of the girls to make their beds neatly--a task that, without constant coaxing and bribing, was one of the rules Sara usually let slip a little anyway.

Sara stifled a chuckle, more amused than she probably should have been to see Ava struggling to hard to control a room full of eleven-year-old girls. Sara grinned crookedly, and yelled, “This is a repeat after me song!”

It had the intended effect. All the kids stopped what they were doing to look at Sara and, as if acting on some deep seated impulse, all repeated, “This is a repeat after me song!”

Ava just stared, still holding one of the pillows in her hand. Sara winked at her.

“I said a-boom-chick-a-boom!” Sara yelled, still standing by the door.

“I said a-boom-chick-a-boom!” The girls all yelled, grinning with excitement. Sara remembered that level of excitement for camp; being away from home for a while, hanging out with her friends at camp without their parents watching them. She started marching her feet toward the door.

“I said a-boom-chick-a-boom,” Sara repeated, marching over to the door.

“I said a-boom-chick-a-boom,” the kids bellowed. Sara glanced over at Ava, who looked utterly horrified at the noise level.

“I said a-boom, chicka LINE UP,” she said, maneuvering kids into a single file line by grabbing their shoulders one at a time and steering them, “chicka-SINGLE FILE chicka-boom!”

She yanked open the door, still chanting the words, gesturing kids out the door. Ava stood there, across the room still, staring. Sara gestured for her to follow, still chanting. Ava glared, looked at Sara like she was something between an actual god and a cockroach, and stepped outside without saying a word. Sara followed behind her, a small, satisfied fire burning in her chest.

* * *

 

The cold air hit, hard, and all at once. The sky was flat and grey, like the untouched pages of a coloring book. Sara had stopped chanting, but the girls from her cabin continued chanting, finishing the song on their own. Almost every single one of them had been with her at camp before, and knew the songs backward and forward. Just like she had, at that age. Like she still did now.

When the wake-up call showed up in the form of a slightly worn-out looking senior camp counselor and an overly enthusiastic group of 9-year-old boys, it became clear, very quickly, that Sara and Ava’s group was not the only one who woke up early. Ignoring Ava completely, Sara herded their group into the parade of kids, and slid in beside Nate and Ray, who were trailing at the end of the nine-year-olds. She bumped her hip against Nate’s, nearly knocking him over.

“Hey, Ray,” she said, saluting him. He grinned back excitedly.

“Sara,” he said. “Camp again! And this summer, our cabin likes to get an early start on things, just like me!” Nate muttered something unintelligible. Sara stifled a snort.

“What was that, Nate?” she said, leaning over to see his face. “You _love_ getting up early? You want to get up early _every day_?” Nate just groaned at her and kept walking. Ray frowned.

“Wait. Why are _you_ guys up so early? You’re not exactly a morning person, Sara.” Sara let out a loud sigh, and glanced behind her to see Ava trailing the rear of the group, ten feet back, frowning.

“It’s my co-counselor,” she sighed, wearily. “She’s an absolute nightmare.”

Nate finally woke himself up enough to look behind them, checking to see who Sara was talking about. When he realized who it was, he groaned too. “The girl from the training. The one who hated us all.”

Sara nodded. “Ye-p,” she said, popping the “p.” “It’s already been awful. She brought an _electric toothbrush_ to camp. She woke me up at 5:45 this morning, ranting about how we were all going to be late. _5:45._ Breakfast still isn’t even for another half hour, even now. And god, is she stuck up as hell.”

Nate frowned too. “Why didn’t you message us? You didn’t have to suffer in silence.”

Sara shrugged. _Because I was having a bad night, one of_ those _nights, one of the nights that makes me realize what kind of person I am, one of those nights that reminds me what a fuck up of a mess I've made, one of those night that makes me cold straight through my skin; the kind that seeps straight to my bones._ “Honestly, I didn’t want to hear the inevitable lecture about how I shouldn’t set a bad example for the kids by using my cell phone.”

“Actually,” Ray began. “Cell phone usage among minors has gone up by--”

“ _Rayyyy,_ ” Sara interrupted, loudly. “It is way, _way_ too early for statistics.”

“Sara, it is never too early for statistics.”

Sara looked at him seriously. “Statistically, most people would disagree.”

“Actually,” Ray began, “Statistically--”

“ _Ray!”_ Sara and Nate yelled, together.

“Okay, okay.”


	3. The Role You Made Me Play, of the Fool, No I Don't Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was brought back by a hard jab in the arm. “Fucking ow, Z,” she said, turning back to Zari and rubbing her arm. “What gives?”
> 
> Zari gave her a scornful look. “I said your name five times and you weren’t answering.”
> 
> “So you decided to jab me?”
> 
> “It was a friendly jab. A companionable jab, if you will.”
> 
> Sara raised an eyebrow. “A companionable jab?”
> 
> “Absolutely,” Zari said with a firm nod. “The most companionable of jabs, even. The sort of jab reserved for interactions between true friends, wherein--”
> 
> “Oh, my god,” Amaya interrupted. “Why are you like this?”
> 
> “Because the swimming test is today, and nothing brings me joy like watching eight-year-olds insist they’re competent swimmers when they can barely splash around on the shore without drowning.”
> 
> Ray gave Zari a concerned look. “You know,” he said, “sometimes I really wonder why Director Hunter made you a counselor.”
> 
> Zari didn’t miss a beat. Speaking around half a chocolate croissant that she had somehow shoveled into her mouth, she said, “I have outstanding survival skills.”  
> \---  
> Or, Sara and Ava really just. Don't get along. And Sara has terrible, terrible luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. I know, I know, this is a day late. But I quickly realized that to meet my NaNoWriMo goals, sometimes I'll be writing until 11 at night, and that's how it is. So I decided that rather than post it hella late, I'd post it today. On the plus side, have an extra long chapter to make up for it! It's only half-beta'd, so any typos I apologize for.
> 
> In the next few chapters, things are going to really ramp up. We'll get a bit more of a hint about what was going on with Sara before (I changed some wording in the first chapter to fit an incident I decided happened, so check that out). And Ava, too.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate each and every one of your comments, I really, really do! Thanks for going on this ridiculous AU journey with me.
> 
> Also, come visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife!

“Sara,” Amaya said, eyeing Sara with genuine surprise. “I think this is the first time your cabin has _ever_ beaten mine to the mess hall. I mean, I expected to see Nate and Ray here,” she added, sliding into place next to her on the bench. “But I’m pretty sure the last time you guys beat us to the mess hall was--”

“Was, never?” interrupted Zari, plopping herself down on Sara’s other side with a plate

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sara grumbled, stabbing her spoon roughly into her oatmeal. Zari raised an eyebrow at her.

“Pretty sure that’s not how you do that.”

Sara made a vague noise of irritation.

“What was that?” Zari asked, leaning in closer. “And, while we’re in the business of asking questions, _why_ , pray tell, did your cabin beat ours to the mess hall this morning?”

“New co-counselor,” Nate piped up from across the table. He pointed down the row of tables to where Ava was sitting.

Zari glanced down the line of tables, then looked back at Sara with a look of mock seriousness. She clamped a hand down hard on Sara’s shoulder. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Sara rolled her eyes as widely as she could. “Wow, thanks, Z.”

“Zari,” Amaya said, giving Zari’s plate of pastries a withering look. “Is there any actual _food_ under there?” Zari gave Amaya a look of mock hurt. “This is food, thank you very much. Besides,” she said, lifting up a croissant with her fork and peeking underneath, “There are some scrambled eggs under here.”

Amaya shook her head, taking a sip of water. “A plate of pastries is not food.”

Zari took a large bite of a danish. “You have a pastry,” she mumbled through her mouthful, pointing her fork at Amaya’s breakfast.

Amaya raised her eyebrows. “It’s a _bran muffin_ , Zari.”

Zari shrugged, taking another large bite of danish. “Has the word ‘muffin’ in it, still counts. Plus, I need my energy. For chasing down the hellions.”

“ _Zari,_ ” Amaya said, the word laced with exasperation. “I told you, you can’t keep calling them hellions.”

“Why not?” Zari asked around a mouthful of egg. She swallowed. “They _are_ hellions. All eight-year-olds are hellions.”

Sara let the banter melt into background noise around her as she glanced down the row of counselor tables where Nate was pointing. Ava was two tables down, picking at a plate of fruit and french toast, chatting quietly with a new boy Sara was fairly certain was named Gary. As if sensing Sara’s gaze, Ava turned her head to face Sara, meeting her gaze for a moment. She raised an eyebrow as if to say “ _What?”_ Sara raised an eyebrow back.

She was brought back by a hard jab in the arm. “Fucking ow, Z,” she said, turning back to Zari and rubbing her arm. “What gives?”

Zari gave her a scornful look. “I said your name _five times_ and you weren’t answering.”

“So you decided to jab me?”

“It was a friendly jab. A companionable jab, if you will.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “A companionable jab?”

“Absolutely,” Zari said with a firm nod. “The _most_ companionable of jabs, even. The sort of jab reserved for interactions between _true friends_ , wherein--”

“Oh, my god,” Amaya interrupted. “ _Why_ are you like this?”

“Because the swimming test is today, and nothing brings me joy like watching eight-year-olds insist they’re competent swimmers when they can barely splash around on the shore without drowning.”

Ray gave Zari a concerned look. “You know,” he said, “sometimes I really wonder why Director Hunter made you a counselor.”

Zari didn’t miss a beat. Speaking around half a chocolate croissant that she had somehow shoveled into her mouth, she said, “I have _outstanding_ survival skills.”

* * *

Sara understood, objectively, that the swimming test was a necessary part of summer camp. That it was there to help everyone be safe, to see the level everyone was at, and to group the kids into canoe groups that would be appropriate for their swimming level. But that didn’t stop her from hating it with every fiber of her being, objective or not.

None of the kids in her group had ever actually, truly failed the swim test before--a fate that, if it happened, meant that the kid was stuck canoeing with one of the camp counselors.

In the years prior, Sara had had the same group of seven girls, more or less--two to a canoe, with one of them opting to hop in a canoe with her and her co-counselor, just for fun. They had made it a game--the “special camper” who got to go with the counselors that week, bringing up the rear in their canoe. This year, however, there were eight girls. Which meant that, if all of the kids passed, it would just be her and Ava. In a canoe. By themselves. And while Sara would never _actually_ wish a failing grade on one of her kids, a tiny, less rational part of her brain, the part that absolutely, 100% did _not_ want to be stuck in a canoe with just herself and Ava Sharpe, kind of wished that one of the girls had somehow magically forgotten how to swim over the past year.

Ava had, it appeared, gathered up all of the girls directly after breakfast. Sara frowned. She was almost one hundred percent positive it was supposed to be free time right now. She dropped off her dishes in one of the bus bins, and bolted over to the circle of kids surrounding Ava, calling up the daily schedule on her phone as she ran.

“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing at the group.

“What does it _look_ like?” Ava asked, irritably. “I’m getting them ready for the swim test.”

Sara glanced up at the clock on the wall, then down at her phone screen, where the schedule had loaded. “Ava,” she said in what she hoped was a nice, calm, even voice. “The swim test is not for another forty minutes. They’re supposed to have at least half an hour of free time.”

Ava scoffed at Sara--quickly becoming a favorite past time of hers, Sara noticed--and said, “I’m bringing them down to stretch before the test. You know how important stretching is.”

Sara just blinked at her. She couldn’t quite tell if Ava was being serious.

Except in the back of her mind, Sara knew that she was, and somehow, that was even worse.

“You...you realize that the swim test is literally them showing that they know how to doggy paddle from one rope to another rope, 20 feet away, right?”

Ava crossed her arms, frowning at Sara. “Well, exercise is exercise. And before exercise, you stretch. It’s just what you do. I _know_ that you play a sport,” she added, gesturing to Sara’s sweatshirt. “So you know how important stretching is.”

“Are you for real?” Sara asked, her voice rising, slightly. The girls began to look at them, curiously, and lowered her voice. “They’re _eleven-year-olds_ , Ava, not Olympic swimmers.”

Ava opened her mouth, eyes burning with annoyance. But before she could say anything, one of the girls--Lia--asked, “Do we get to go swimming now, or what?”

Ava closed her mouth, eyes quickly clearing of all annoyance, and instead filling with a sort of smug triumph. Sara gritted her teeth, digging her fingernails hard into her palms. She turned to Lia and smiled.

“Yep!” she said, as brightly as she could manage. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

“Hey, captain,” Zari said, bumping Sara’s shoulder with her own. Sara rolled her eyes at the nickname. She still wasn’t entirely sure when the name had begun. All she could remember was that sometime, between her second and third years at camp, one of her friends had started calling her “captain.” Sara found the whole thing entirely ridiculous; which naturally meant that the very first time Zari had heard it, she had begun to use it, with increasing delight. And while Sara was, technically, the captain of Zari’s soccer team, she was the captain of literally nothing else for any of the other people in their friend group. Zari, in her infinite wisdom, insisted that it was because Sara was “super bossy.” So regardless of how absurd Sara found the whole thing, her friends called her “captain” on a regular basis.

Zari grinned at Sara’s obvious annoyance. “You ready for this?” she asked, tilting her head toward Sara’s group of eleven-year-olds, lined up at the edge of the lake.

Sara shrugged, still shoving down that tiny part of her that kind of hoped one of them would fail the test. “None of ‘em have failed before, dunno why they’d start now.”

 _But maybe,_ the traitor part of her brain reasoned. She shushed it, hard, as the first girl hopped into the water.

She did a perfect freestyle stroke over to the other rope, and grinned, treading water with one hand while she used the other to give the group a thumbs up. Sara sighed.

One by one, each of her girls jumped in the water, and one by one, each girl, with varying degrees of grace, reached the other side. Two more girls to go. Sara glanced at the last girl in line. It was the new girl, Kennedy. Sara frowned, concern overtaking any other feelings she might have had. Kennedy was shifting on her feet, looking increasingly more nervous with every passing second. Sara moved away from Zari’s side, and walked over to Kennedy, crouching down slightly so she could whisper.

“You okay?” she asked.

Kennedy hesitated for a second, looked around, and shook her head.

“Is it the water?”

Kennedy gave the barest of nods, and leaned in. “I’m not really a very good swimmer,” she said. “I mean. I’m not afraid to go in, but I don’t know if I can go _across,_ and…” she trailed off, looking down at her feet.

Sara paused, biting her lip. On the one hand, Sara really, really, absolutely did _not_ want to end up by herself in a canoe with Ava Sharpe.

On the other hand, Sara knew how this would go: Kennedy would fail the test, which would mean that Kennedy had to go in a canoe with one of the counselors. This also meant, however, that even if Sara managed to get Kennedy in her canoe every single time, this would leave another camper partnerless, forcing the poor, partnerless camper into a canoe by themselves with Ava Sharpe.

Sara groaned, internally, and sighed. She put on her very best Soccer Captain pep-talk face, took Kennedy’s shoulders, and very seriously said, “Kennedy. When you get in there, you kick. You kick like your life depends on it. You kick, and you pull yourself forward with your arms, as best you can. Okay?”

Kennedy nodded, straightening. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Sara said again, standing up. She chanced a glance over at Ava, who wasn’t in earshot of them, but had fixed Sara with a extremely curious gaze. Sara turned and walked back over toward Zari.

Zari raised an eyebrow. “What was _that_ about?”

Sara sighed. “Just sealing my own doom,” she murmured.

Zari blinked. “Uh. What?”

Sara shook her head, and pointed to the water. “Look.”

Kennedy walked up to the water, squared her shoulders, and jumped in. She floated there, waving her arms around wildly, for a couple of seconds. Then, she started kicking madly. Water splashed everywhere, limbs flew.

Slowly, Kennedy started moving forward.

And kept moving forward.

And, several minutes later, Kennedy made it to the finish line.

Sara forced out a long breath.

She was going in a canoe. With just herself. And Ava Sharpe. All. Summer. Long.

* * *

 

“Take us to the left more. _To the left._ ”

“It _is_ to the left! Any more to the left and _we’ll_ be to the left. In the water, _left_ of the canoe.”

Sara wasn’t entirely sure which gods she had pissed off, but she wanted to know exactly what she had to do to get back into their good graces. After the swim test, each cabin went to their respective planned activities for the morning, until lunch. Sara had been ready to forget about the whole canoe thing for a little while, and focus on other camp activities.

But when she had looked at her phone to see what was scheduled next, she let out a long moan. “You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me,” she seethed, under her breath.

Right there, next to cabin 11a, was “canoeing.” She had blinked at the screen for a while, hoping that, maybe, if she stared at the pixels long enough, they’d somehow flip themselves on their heads, swim around the screen, reform themselves into brand new letters in brand new shapes in brand new ways that absolutely did not involve Ava Sharpe.

Of course, that hadn’t happened.

So instead, she’d put her phone away, tucked it into a waterproof bag, and sighed loudly in resignation.

One look at Ava had told her that Ava was also realizing the dilemma they were in. They had made eye contact, stared at each other, and not said a word for a solid five minutes.

Realizing they’d have to take their usual “one person steering, one person doing grunt work” positions, Sara had immediately made a beeline for the back of the canoe. Ava had frowned at her, but had, by some miracle, not argued.

Only now, Sara was realizing that having taken the steering seat might have been a mistake. Because while Sara was technically in charge of steering, Ava was the worst “backseat driver” Sara had ever had the displeasure of dealing with.

“Sara, I’m _serious._ To the left more.”

Sara gritted her teeth. She wanted to take her paddle and smack Ava with it.

“I know how to _canoe,_ Ava,” she spat.

She looked around, keeping an eye on the trail of girls up ahead.

As usual, they were bringing up the rear. They had one of the girls who was familiar with the Had none of them been familiar, they’d have taken the front, but this way, they could make sure no one fell behind.

Only now _they_ were falling behind, because Ava wouldn’t stop attempting to steer the boat from the front.

It _should_ have been lovely; the day had cleared up nicely, and the sun was filtering in through the trees, dappling the river with specks of light, making the tiny crests of waves glitter, delicate and dangerous.

Only, it wasn’t.

Not like before.

Not like it _had_ been, not like with her last co-counselor, where they’d moved in perfect sync, every single time.

Sara swallowed hard. She attempted to focus, but her chest felt heavy, now, as though full of sand, and radiating with a dull, rippling ache.

Sara told herself that what happened next wasn’t because she was distracted in any way, and that every part of it was because Ava wouldn’t stop fucking _steering_ , when she as supposed to just be paddling.

Either way, however, Sara could sense it as it was happening; the boat tilting, slightly, beginning to shift position in a direction is absolutely was not supposed to be going. The dull, horrible crunch of Ava’s paddle hitting a rock, in the complete opposite direction or Sara’s. And the icy burning sensation of water flooding her mouth, down her back, in her eyes, pulling on her hair. She fought not to panic as she pressed herself upwards, and blew water out from her mouth.

Her head popped up out of the surface, and she spat out her mouthful of scummy river water, coughing on the coolness of the fresh air filling her lungs. She glanced around, treading water. There was the canoe, thankfully not overturned, partially filled with water, plants and dead bugs clinging to its surface. It must have nearly tipped over when it flipped them, but righted itself at the last moment. That was something, at least. Except.

Except. No Ava. Her stomach flashed with something unpleasant; something slimy and rotting, filling the deepest pit of her stomach, her chest; something undeniably urgent. She hurried over to the canoe, lifted herself onto it, flat, with a practiced motion. Hurried to right herself. She took in a deep, shaky breath.

“Ava?” she tried, weakly. Then mentally slapped herself. Like _that_ was going to help.

She was about to shove herself back into the water, about to swim around looking, when she saw a small, wet head about 20 feet away from her, near the shore. Relief flooded Sara’s whole body, seeping deep into her bones.

She didn’t like Ava. She didn’t even want to be near Ava. But good god, had she absolutely not wanted Ava to _drown._

She padded the canoe over to where Ava was treading water. Ava glared up at her, a wet leaf clinging to the top of her hair. Sara didn’t say a word, just reached out a hand to help Ava up. Ava glared at that, too, warily, before grabbing it and allowing Sara to help her back into the boat.

Ava crossed her arms at Sara. Sara glared back.

“I gotta say, Lance,” Ava said, retrieving her paddle from the water a few feet away. “Now that I’ve seen you in action with my own eyes?” She shoved her paddle into the water, and turned to stare at Sara with a flat expression. “You are even _worse_ than I imagined.”

Every bit of relief Sara had felt at Ava not being dead was replaced with a brand new fiery anger, coursing through her veins. She fixed Ava with an equally flat stare, narrowing her eyes. “You’re welcome.”


	4. I Can Tell That It's Going to Be A Long Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara tucked her feet under her, grabbing a gummy worm from the bag on the bed. She twisted it in her fingers, separating the colors with her fingernail, and glanced at the odd array of sweets.
> 
> “How the hell did you get all this stuff, Z? I know you didn’t just pack it all in your bag. You’d have no room for clothes.”
> 
> Zari snorted as Amaya rolled her eyes. “Nah,” Zari said, around a mouthful of powdered sugar donut. “Got ‘em trained.”
> 
> Sara cocked her head. “Uh. What?”
> 
> Amaya sighed, loudly. “For the last time, Z. You can’t just train children to fetch, like dogs.”
> 
> “Oh yeah? What’s all this, then?” Zari gestured to the pile of donuts, gummy worms, cookies, and, for whatever reason, juice boxes. She looked at Sara, and grinned, widely. “I’ve trained the 8-year-olds to raid the kitchen for me when the kitchen staff aren’t there. They’re small enough that they go undetected.”
> 
> Sara stared, unsure whether to be reproachful or impressed. She settled for both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who is still reading this! Things are going to really start to ramp up in the couple of chapters coming up, so hopefully y'all have stuck with me thus far.
> 
> I know this chapter seems a little scattered, but I'm attempting to set the scene (and, honestly, I'm pretty excited for next chapter because it'll be fun for me to write)
> 
> Special thanks to coffeeandarrows and moonlitprincess for showing me that it's possible to write a good messenger chat in fanfiction--something I struggled with hardcore before this.
> 
> Also, if you like High School AU's, definitely check out their fic. It's awesome!
> 
> Also special thanks to Lysippe, the best beta-er ever.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love hearing from you all, so comments are really, really appreciated.

_Sara Lance_

_Messenger_

_June 20, 6:23 PM_

 

_“Well, Actually” changed the name of the group from “Legends of Tomorrow” to “What time is it? Summertime, it’s our Vacation!”_

 

 _Z: ray you did_ not _just change the name of our group chat from something referencing senior year to something referencing high school musical_

 

_Pretty-Boy: Actually, I think that technically that song’s from High School Musical 2_

 

_You: Pretty sure that’s worse somehow_

 

_Z: wtf nate why do you even know that_

 

_Well, Actually: Nate and I are HSM buddies for life. Chat-five!_

 

_Pretty-Boy: Back atcha, buddy!_

 

_You: One summer they got the six year olds in their_

_cabin to do two dances from HSM 2 in the talent show_

 

_Z: literally why has any of this chat happened right now_

 

_Burny McBurnerson: I hate high school musical. Kill it with fire._

 

_The Lady or the Tiger: Mick, you can’t just light everything on fire_

 

_Burny McBurnerson: Sure you can. I want to light my co counselor on fire._

 

_Z changed the nickname for “Burny McBurnerson” to “Fire McFire-Pants”_

 

_The Lady or the Tiger:  Zari...why did you even bother to change that?_

 

_Z: hey sometimes even perfection can be improved upon_

 

_You: I kind of want to light my co-counselor on fire too_

 

_You: Today she managed to tip us over in a canoe_

 

_You: Seriously you guys I don’t know how Im going to make it through this summer_

 

_Z: mine and amayas cabin_

 

_Z: 9 pm_

 

_Z: or maybe 10_

 

_Z: whenevr Ava goes to sleep_

 

_Z: *wehnever_

 

_Z: *whenever_

 

_Z: oh fuck it_

 

_Z: just come over i have contraband_

 

_Fire McFire-Pants: Contraband?_

 

_The Lady or the Tiger: None of it is actually illegal, Mick._

 

_Fire McFire-Pants: Damn._

 

_Pretty-Boy: Ooh, party in your cabin?_

 

_Z: nuh uh_

 

_Z: girls only night_

 

_Pretty-Boy: Aw c’mon, Z_

 

_Z: i dont make the rules_

 

_Well, Actually: Well, actually, I’m pretty sure you did make these rules_

_You: THE NAME STRIKES AGAIN!_

 

_You sent a screenshot_

_Well, Actually: Oh shoot_

_You: Ill be there Z_

_Seen 6:46 PM by Pretty-Boy, Z, The Lady or the Tiger, Well, Actually, Fire McFire-Pants_

* * *

Sara tucked her feet under her, grabbing a gummy worm from the bag on the bed. She twisted it in her fingers, separating the colors with her fingernail, and glanced at the odd array of sweets.

“How the hell did you get all this stuff, Z? I _know_ you didn’t just pack it all in your bag. You’d have no room for clothes.”

Zari snorted as Amaya rolled her eyes. “Nah,” Zari said, around a mouthful of powdered sugar donut. “Got ‘em trained.”

Sara cocked her head. “Uh. What?”

Amaya sighed, loudly. “For the last time, Z. You can’t just train children to fetch, like dogs.”

“Oh yeah? What’s all this, then?” Zari gestured to the pile of donuts, gummy worms, cookies, and, for whatever reason, juice boxes. She looked at Sara, and grinned, widely. “I’ve trained the 8-year-olds to raid the kitchen for me when the kitchen staff aren’t there. They’re small enough that they go undetected.”

Sara stared, unsure whether to be reproachful or impressed. She settled for both.

Amaya clearly didn’t feel any such dilemma. She gave Zari a withering look. “I keep telling you, if they get in trouble, that’s going to be our fault, and--”

Zari flapped a hand at Amaya. “ _Relax_ , Amaya. No one will get caught. Anyway,” she added, turning her attention back to Sara. “We’re not talking about my trained children right now, we’re talking about Sara’s problem. Speaking of which,” she said, ripping a piece off of a gummy worm with her teeth, “What’s the issue, cap?”

Sara squeezed the gummy worm pieces between her fingers and sighed, a little. Zari raised an eyebrow at her mutilated worm.

“It’s Ava,” Amaya said matter-of-factly, delicately twisting the top off of an Oreo cookie. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Which meant that other people could see just how much Sara and Ava hated each other. Worry pricked at the edges of Sara’s mind.

“Listen,” said Zari, poking the half-eaten donut in Sara’s direction. “The girl is a complete bitch. What else is there to worry about? Just ignore her, come to visit us every night, and call it quits.”

Sara snorted. “Yeah, except I can’t come to visit you every single time she’s pissing me off during the day, too.”

Amaya fixed Sara with an intent stare. Sara looked away. “Sara,” she said gently. “Maybe you’re just off to kind of a rough start. I know that it’s quite a bit different from last year--”

Sara whipped her head back up, sharply. “It has _nothing_ to do with that,” she snapped. Amaya continued to stare back, entirely unphased, eyes soft and just a little too kind for Sara’s liking.

Zari sighed, wiping her powdery hand on the blanket before putting it on Sara’s knee. “Okay, look. Real talk, here. We all know the situation isn’t ideal. But is it _possible,_ in _any way,_ that maybe you’re seeing it as even worse because of last year?”

Sara frowned, but said nothing. Zari and Amaya had this way of getting right to the root of a problem that, while often profoundly helpful, was just as often profoundly unwelcome. Not that she had any intention of letting them know that.

* * *

 

“Why don’t you _ever_ make your bed? It would be a way better example for the kids.”

“It’s not like the kids are even allowed in here. Why the hell would they care if I made the bed?”

“Because it’s what you’re supposed to do, once you’re done sleeping in it. You make it.”

“Well, I’m _not_ done sleeping in it. I won’t _be_ done sleeping in it until the beginning of August, will I?”

It had been a full week, now. A full week of Ava waking Sara up every morning at 5:45 a.m. A week of canoeing (though thankfully, that only happened a couple of times per week), a week of sniping and arguing and

Again.

And being honest, Sara thought, it was exhausting. But at least it was an exhaustion that she was used to. It was similar to what she’d been doing with her sister, pretty much their entire lives. Except now, for the very first time, Laurel _wasn’t_ here at summer camp. She wasn’t here to be better than Sara at everything she tried. To be smarter, and nicer, and more charismatic, and an all-around better daughter for their parents.

And it wasn’t exactly that Ava was like Laurel; not _really_ . Where Laurel had charisma coming out of her ears, Ava was stiffer, and sharper, and more on-task with absolutely everything. Laurel was the sort of person to throw Sara under the bus to gain clout with her parents. To be better because she _was_ better, but to rub it in Sara’s face because she was better than _Sara,_ specifically, and she knew it. Ava, though, was the sort of person who climbed to the top of her class just because she could; because it was the sort of thing she was supposed to do, and she wouldn’t let a little thing like Sara Lance being her co-counselor get in the way of her success.

So it wasn’t that they were the same person, or even provided the exact same irritation in Sara’s life. It was just the same kind of exhaustion; the constant bickering, the disagreement on absolutely every tiny thing.

Not that Sara was going to _do_ anything about it.

Ava smoothed down the cover on her bed, plopping her pillow directly in the middle of the headboard before turning to scowl at Sara.

“You _know_ that’s not what I meant.”

Sara shrugged. “Did I?” she asked with faux innocence before pushing her way into the bathroom.

As she did every morning, Sara took her time with her eyeshadow and mascara. It wasn’t that she necessarily _needed_ to look good here. It’s not like she had anyone to look good _for_. Her friends had seen her in everything from sweaty soccer jerseys, mud caking her knees and forearms, to the formalwear she shoved herself into when she was strong-armed into attending homecoming this past year (“for Ray’s sake, Sara please?”). But old habits die hard, and her taking too long in the bathroom in the mornings pissed off Ava, so it was a win in her book.

By the time she emerged, Ava had more or less wrangled the kids into a line for breakfast, to Sara’s very slight irritation. She couldn’t exactly place _why_ it bothered her until about halfway to the mess hall, when she realized, with an unpleasant jolt, that it was because she _liked_ being better than Ava with the kids. She liked being the one they were used to, the one they went to, the one they joked around with. And this meant that maybe, just a little, they were getting _used_ to Ava.

And that didn’t sit well with Sara _at all_.

* * *

Their assigned cabin activity for the morning was arts and crafts. This was always a touch-and-go thing with the tweens, because while they were into making things like bath bombs, or locker magnets, they definitely were _not_ interested in making pom-pom bunnies.

All of the kids let out collective sighs as they filtered into the room, taking in the popsicle sticks and elmer’s glue carefully arranged on the desks.

“ _Really_?” groaned Kennedy, shoving her phone into her back pocket.

“What are we supposed to _do_ with a popsicle stick cabin?” added another girl, Deja, from behind her.

Sara was pretty much inclined to agree. She hadn’t even liked making popsicle stick cabins when _she_ was a camper. She chanced a glance over at Ava: even she looked a little bored already.

Sara dug out her phone, shooting a quick “Z you didnt warn me the craft was for toddlers” to Zari before turning back to the issue at hand.

She bit her lip, considering for a split second, before throwing caution to the wind. _Fuck it,_ she thought. _If they want to get me in trouble, that’s what they want to do._

She strode over to the craft cabinet and dug out a key. She pulled out the glitter, bowls, borax, and food coloring. She had to leave the spoons, for now, or risk them all dumping out on the floor at their feet.

“Okay, change of plans,” she announced, dumping her stash on the table.

“Slimeeeee!” said Sophie, pumping her arms up in weird sort of jumping-dance.

Ava turned to raise an eyebrow at Sara. “Uh. That’s _completely_ against the rules. And they made slime already last week.”

Sara shrugged, twisting her mouth into a crooked smile.“Sometimes--” she began, before cutting herself off. “Hold on,” she added, realizing there was a camper standing next to her. She clamped her hands over the girl’s ears.

“Sar _aaaaaaa_!” the girl whined, trying half-heartedly to wiggle away. Ava tilted her head at Sara as if to say, “really?” Sara grinned more widely.

“Anyway,” Sara stage-whispered. “Sometimes, rules are better broken.” She released the ears of the girl, who had begun attempting to poke her way out of Sara’s grip.

“Sorry, Kiem,” Sara said, with a half-shrug. “Top secret business.” Kiem wrinkled her nose. “Uh _huh.”_

Sara winked. “Now, go join the masses!” She cried, pushing Kiem toward the other girls. Kiem gave Sara one last suspicious look before bounding over to join her friends at the table.

Sara headed back over to the supply cabinet to grab the box of spoons. Ava eyed Sara sideways, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You break the rules a lot, don’t you?”

Sara’s heart gave a hard, irregular _thump_. She spun around to give Ava a sharp look.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Ava shrugged, fixing her unwavering gaze on Sara. Her eyes were sparking with something electric; too bright, too icy for Sara’s liking. “Nothing,” she said, calmly. Sara stared at Ava for another long moment, chest just a little too heavy, before turning away.

Ava turned toward the room of kids, now all diving to grab various tubes of glitter. She let out a long-suffering sigh.

“You know that glitter is the STI of the craft world, right?”

Sara nearly dropped an entire box of spoons. She snorted, loudly. “What?” she choked out. She gaped at Ava, who was looking at with a completely serious face.

They looked at each other for another long moment before the corners of Ava’s mouth twitched up into what Sara suspected might actually be a smile.

“Was...was that a _joke?”_

Ava shrugged again, looking out over the room of kids. “Absolutely not.”


	5. Flashback to My Mistakes, My Rebounds, My Earthquakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava’s eyes fixed on Sara’s, blue hardening to grey, flat stone. When she spoke, her voice was low, and dangerous, and disturbingly quiet.
> 
> “You know everyone talks about you, right? About your old co-counselor? And why she isn’t here anymore?”
> 
> Sara felt her whole body stiffen, felt her lungs collapse, felt her entire world fall in on itself like dominoes until all that was left was her, and Ava’s stone-eyes, and her raw, seized heart.
> 
> Because that was her business, and her heartbreak, and her giant, painful, life-altering mistake. And no one, especially not Ava-fucking-Sharpe, was privy to that part of her.
> 
> Except, it seemed, she was.
> 
> Her, and the rest of the entire camp.
> 
> \----
> 
> Or, cue a super big fight between Sara and Ava, and the beginning of a whole new phase for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm a day late again. I close on Tuesdays, and it can be hard for me on those days, but I'm trying!
> 
> I'm the queen of slow burn, guys, so I hope you're in for this ride. I promise that there is actual Avalance coming. And it's so much fun to write.
> 
> Thank you all SO much for reading, and commenting, and I'm responding to each and every one of you. Please, I thrive off comments and criticisms and conversations for motivation, so keep it up. And I love you all.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me through this experiment. I've really been enjoying writing it. I'm hoping to get in a couple of other chapters for my other fics out, too, soon.
> 
> Come visit me on iliveinfantasylife on Tumblr!
> 
> p.s. HOW ABOUT that episode on monday?? I was stoked to meet Charlie, and I think I've found an amusing way to work her into this fic.

_ What time is it? Summertime, it’s our Vacation! _

_ Messenger _

 

_ June 30, 11:23 AM _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: CAMP DAY! _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: You know what this means _

 

_ Fire McFire-Pants: No _

 

_ Well, Actually: Wait, no you don’t know what it means, or no you won’t do it? _

 

_ Fire McFire-Pants: No _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: Still not an answer, Mick _

 

_ Burny McBurnerson: It’s my answer _

 

_ Z: yeah so anyway _

 

_ Z: capture the flag? _

 

_ Well, Actually: It’s tradition! _

 

_ You: Im in. Were gonna kick your asses _

_ You: Plus im ready to get away from the cabin for a while _

 

_ Lady or the Tiger: I’m in. _

 

_ Fire McFire-Pants: I’m sleeping. _

 

_ You: Its almost noon Mick _

 

_ Fire Mc.Fire-Pants: It’s not even noon yet? Why am I up? _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: Come on Mick, it’s tradition! _

 

_ Z: plus you can have some of my contraband after _

 

_ Fire McFire-Pants: Contraband? _

 

_ Lady or the Tiger: Still not illegal, Mick _

 

_ You: P sure she means soda _

 

_ Fire McFire-Pants: Hm _

 

_ Fire McFire-Pants: I’m in. Bring the contraband. _

 

_ Well, Actually: YES! The tradition lives on! _

 

_ Seen 11:38 AM by Pretty-Boy, Z, The Lady or the Tiger, Well, Actually, Fire McFire-Pants, Captain Lance _

* * *

 

The kids were, miraculously, at an all-camp “camp day” with Director Hunter and the other senior counselors, to celebrate the second saturday of camp. This meant most of the junior counselors (minus one or two volunteers who were helping out with camp day) got a rare day off. 

Normally, as was tradition for the Legends (the name Sara’s friend group had given themselves just in time for senior year), this meant a long, long game of capture the flag. Mick would cheat, Ray would over-strategize, Nate would attempt to come up with some overly-daring act of heroism; it was always fun, and something they’d been doing since they first became counselors.

This year, however, it meant an extra opportunity for Ava to harp on some thing Sara had done wrong, some rule she had broken, while she got ready for said game of capture the flag.

“I just don’t see why you have to bend the rules,  _ all the time,”  _ she was saying as Sara yanked on her favorite pair of worn-out toms (they had calculus on them, and were actually Laurel’s, but Sara had stolen them a year and a half ago and Laurel hadn’t noticed yet). 

Sara felt a spike of annoyance shoot through her as she tugged her hair up into a ponytail and grabbed her SCHS soccer sweatshirt.

“I mean,” Ava continued, arranging and rearranging the bottles on her dresser, “it inhibits their ability to  _ learn. _ And that’s why people send their kids to camp, in the first place. How are they supposed to do that if you’re bending the rules  _ all the time _ ?”

Sara tried, she really did, to just ignore Ava. But that just wasn’t  _ her,  _ just wasn’t the person she was; and every single time they talked, there was this spark of irritation, this tiny, indescribable flame that grew and spread until her entire being was consumed by real, actual anger.

“No, Ava,” Sara said, throwing her sweatshirt down on the bed in exasperation. “People send their kids to camp to get them out of the house for the summer. And, you know, so that the kids can have  _ fun _ ? It’s not school 2.0; it’s supposed to be a  _ fun _ time for them. Something that strict rule-making is  _ denying _ them. And just because you’re a complete  _ bitch _ who doesn’t know what the word fun means doesn’t mean you should ruin it for them.” Sara knew she was going too far, had gone too far, but she could also sense the buzzing, electric anger, the build-up of these last couple of weeks slipping straight into her veins, channeling itself forcefully into each word she said

Sara could have sworn she saw a pang of hurt cross over Ava’s face, for just a split second, before it slipped into a cool, hard mask.

“Fun?” Ava laughed, darkly, a cruel chuckle that didn’t meet her eyes. “You’d know all  _ about  _ that, wouldn’t you?”

Sara inhaled sharply. Something about Ava’s tone, the way she spoke her words, laced with intention, had Sara’s heart racing. She narrowed her eyes, balling her fingers into fists, nails biting sharply into her skin. “What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” she spat. 

Ava’s eyes fixed on Sara’s, blue hardening to grey, flat stone. When she spoke, her voice was low, and dangerous, and disturbingly quiet.

“You know everyone talks about you, right? About your old co-counselor? And why she isn’t here anymore?”

Sara felt her whole body stiffen, felt her lungs collapse, felt her entire world fall in on itself like dominoes until all that was left was her, and Ava’s stone-eyes, and her raw, seized heart.

Because that was  _ her  _ business, and  _ her  _ heartbreak, and  _ her  _ giant, painful, life-altering mistake. And no one, especially not Ava-fucking-Sharpe, was privy to that part of her.

Except, it seemed, she was.

Her, and the rest of the entire camp.

Sara felt the familiar burning begin in her chest, her throat, her collapsed lungs. The actual rage-like-fire, making its way all the way up her body, settling on her skin like ash. She blinked, quickly, attempting to control the way the burning moved into the corners of her eyes. She felt her eyes fill, despite her best efforts, and  _ fuck _ , if that didn’t piss her off even more. She shook her head, as though the motion would force the tears from actually falling. 

How long, she wondered wildly, had Ava known? The whole time? Right from the beginning, words migrating from ear to ear in hushed whispers and sideways glances?

How long had her  _ friends _ known this was happening?

Through the rippling clouding her vision, she could see Ava’s eyes widen, just slightly, watched her take the smallest step back from where she’d been standing, the flat grey stone deepening into blue.

“Look--” Ava began, but Sara shook her head violently, tears finally spilling over, burning trails like acid down her cheeks.

“ _ No,”  _ Sara hissed, the word coming out rough and choked around the tears. The fact that she was an angry crier was always a huge point of contention for Sara. But the fact that she was angry-crying, here, now, in front of Ava Sharpe? 

That was far, far worse.

“You,” she said through gritted teeth, “have  _ no _ idea how that went down. What happened.  _ No _ idea. And you have  _ no right-- _ ” she swallowed, hard, shaking her head. “You know what? I don’t have to explain anything to  _ you _ .” Then she spun around, hands shaking, just a little, and strode out the door.

* * *

 

Sara showed up to capture the flag, if only in body. Like she did every year, like she was supposed to; because Sara was nothing if not excellent at pretending everything was Just Fine. While Nate and Ray plotted daring feat after daring feat, and Zari and Amaya did their absolute best to fend off their increasingly more wild (read: unsuccessful) attempts, Sara was, by her own calculations, about as useful as Mick. 

Which was to say, not at all.

Her mind was still back in her cabin, Ava’s words ringing through her head on a loop.

_ You know they talk about you, right?  _

Well, she did now, at least.

And if she was going to be the talk of the camp, Sara would much rather know than not know.

Really, though, what hurt the most was that no one had told her. No one, at any point, had had the decency to tell her to her face what people said behind her back. And her friends  _ had  _ to know. They had to. Camp wasn’t  _ that _ big, and rumors had a tendency to spread like wildfire on the rare occasion that they did pop up, and the counselors all knew each other. 

So why, exactly, had no one told her?

* * *

_ Hel-lo, Ladies _

_ Messenger _   
  


_ June 30, 4:48 PM _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: ok cap _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: spill _

 

_ You: What _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: sara no one takes capture the flag more seriously than you do _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: and today you let ray walk past you because he was wearing a plant frond in front of him pretending to be a tree _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: so talk _

 

_ You: How long _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: ok great start _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: but need just a little bit more from you there _

 

_ You: How long have you known _

 

_ You: How long have they been talking _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: what _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: what do you mean _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: Oh _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: Oh, Sara _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: Sara, look _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: We only barely knew. People don’t really talk about you when we’re around.  _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: I might have overheard a couple of the other counselors talking about it, but I just didn’t want to hurt you even more by bringing it back up again. _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: oh fuck _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: honestly i thought you knew _

 

_ You: Great _

 

_ You: Fucking great _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: hey _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: i promise its not just a constant topic of conversation or anything _

 

_ You: Honestly that doesnt really make me feel better _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: what i mean is that people dont talk as much as youre thinking they are _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: It’s just something that happened. People will forget it, like they always do. _

 

_ You: Except they havent forgotten it in a year, have they _

 

_ You: And I had to hear it from Ava _

 

_ You: Of all fucking people _

 

_ You: And now I know _

 

_ You: That my business is once again everyones business  _ except _  mine _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: i swear i thought you knew or i would have told you _

 

_ Amaya Jiwe: Come over later, okay? _

 

_ You: I cant I _

 

_ You: I think I just need some _

_ Zari Tomaz: sara _

 

_ Zari Tomaz: you shouldnt have to be alone right now _

 

_ Read 4:57 PM by Sara Lance _

Sara clicked her phone locked, and shoved it into her pocket. She sat down, hard, on a rock near the woods, wet moss soaking damp patches into her jeans. She ran her fingers over and over through her hair, rings catching on strands, yanking them out with sharp little pangs. But Sara couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t go see Zari and Amaya, she knew, because Amaya would want to talk about it. Because Zari would try to figure out the best way to make her feel better, without actually talking about it. Because if she let herself think about it too much, remember too much, once again get that constant, aching reminder of what an actual screw up of a person she was, she might just lose it entirely.

* * *

 

Things reached an odd sort of standstill in their cabin. Except now, when Sara did something that would previously have given Ava reason to get angry, Ava would open her mouth to argue, and just as quickly snap it back shut, with a sort of deliberate awkwardness. Sara could sense the conflict in Ava, every time, see the gears turning quickly behind her eyes, the briefest flash of annoyance, slipping into something resembling resignation. 

The tension between them now was palpable; like an actual, physical thing, thick and choking, like the smoke of a bonfire. 

But there was no fighting, right now, no harsh jabs or sharp, cutting phrases with jagged edges, slicing into the soft parts around their hearts.

And Sara honestly didn’t know which was worse: that, or the silence.

But for right now, she was going to take it.

Sara had seen Zari the morning after the fight. They had both gone to the kitchens at the same time, each of them assigned to early morning dish duty, and had both stood there shuffling their feet awkwardly for a couple of minutes before Zari said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sara shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Zari nodded, once, deliberately. “Good. I’m terrible at this ‘feelings’ thing.”

Then, they had gone to wash the dishes, flicking giant clumps of soap foam suds at each other until their sides hurt.

It had felt good to laugh, after the day she had had, and Sara had been immensely grateful that it was Zari she was with. Because Zari understood not wanting to talk. She understood shoving feelings into files in your brain, only unearthing them when absolutely necessary, and even then, only when they’re already covered in dust, old and withered and half-forgotten. 

Now, though, she was faced with actual breakfast. An actual meal with actual people, and actual conversation. She and Ava had wrangled the kids that morning, leading them down to breakfast with a loud marching song (some odd mash up of a camp song about peanuts and Ariana Grande that Deja had started and Sara and Ava were amused enough not to change). They were working bizarrely in sync, and with all of Sara’s energy focused on that, she didn’t have to look around at the other faces and voices and noise. 

Once that was over, however, and her campers were settled into their little pockets of gossip and laughter and goofy phrases (“I’m naming my pom pom animal Bububu.” “What does that even mean?” Cue hoards of giggles), Sara was faced with a room of people whom, she now knew, were talking about her. All the time. Again. And as she grabbed her food and sat down on her usual bench at their usual table, it felt like absolutely everywhere she looked, people were staring, watching her, cupping their hands over their mouths and shouting her secrets, in whispers, to the rest of the camp.

“Heyyyyy,” said Zari, sliding into place next to her, bumping her shoulder lightly into Sara’s. “That french toast isn’t gonna eat itself. So either you eat it, or I eat it.”

Sara rolled her eyes, grateful all the same for the distraction.

Ray shot them a confused look from across the table. “Wait, why wouldn’t you then just go get your own french toast?”

“It’s the rule,” Zari said.

“Wait, what rule?” asked Ray, looking even more confused, a piece of whole grain toast stuck halfway up to his mouth.

“The  _ rule _ ,” Zari insisted.

“Okay, either tell us what rule, or never say the word ‘rule’ again,” said Nate, taking a large bite of an apple

Zari sighed, dramatically. “The _rule,"_ she said, popping a grape into her mouth, "where someone else’s food always tastes better than your own."

“ _ Ohhh, _ ” said Nate. “Like the cousin rule.”

Amaya raised an eyebrow at him. “Cousin?”

Nate shrugged. “Only child,” he said. Zari snorted. 

“So, theoretically,” Ray began, “If you were to, say, steal everyone’s food in here and eat none of your own, it would be the best meal you’d ever had?”

Nate laughed, loudly. “Yeah, everyone would call her ‘the food thief,’ and go around hiding their food from her anytime she was in view,” 

Zari shrugged. “Worth it,” she said, popping a piece of cinnamon toast into her mouth. “Besides, you’d all love me anyway.”

“Yes,” said Amaya, fixing Sara with an intent stare. “Yes, we still would.”

Nate gave Amaya a weird, sideways look. “Okay, that got serious, really fast.”

Amaya shrugged. “Just going with the flow, Nathaniel.”

  
Except Sara knew exactly what Amaya was trying to say, and she shot Amaya the very smallest of grateful smiles. Because though it had stemmed from the most absurd of absurd conversations--a regular occurance, with her and her friends--it seemed that, for everything Sara had done, for everything she had been through over the years and put  _ them _ through over the years, her friends still, by some miracle, seemed to love her anyway. And with that, Sara felt just a little bit of the ache melt away.


	6. But I Got Smarter, I Got Harder in the Nick of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava let out a quiet sigh, her face falling, taking on an expression of defeated vexation. “Forget it,” she said, her voice hard. “This clearly isn’t working.”
> 
> “Hey,” Sara said, shrugging. “You’re the one who said we needed to talk.”
> 
> “Yeah, and I’m really starting to regret that life choice right now,” Ava muttered, looking up at the ceiling and closing her eyes.
> 
> “Yeah,” Sara echoed, hopping back up. “I’m out of here.” She took a couple of quick steps toward the door.
> 
> “Except,” Ava added, sharply, causing Sara to pause, “That we still have eight impressionable eleven-year-olds out there, and earlier this morning I heard one of them say, ‘I think camp-moms are fighting again.’”
> 
> Sara stared. “Excuse me?”  
> \---  
> Or, Sara and Ava try to have an actual conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, your comments and support are overwhelming, and I love you all! Thank you so much for reading this guy. The overarching comment theme was definitely "wtf happened last year?" And I promise, I promise you will find out. Just not quite yet. Things are starting to progress now. THANK YOU AGAIN for commenting, and kudos, and reading, and finding me on Tumblr to chat. Enjoy!

“Okay,” Ava said, closing the door behind them and crossing her arms. “We need to talk.”

Sara felt a small jolt through her stomach. Nothing good ever, ever followed those words. Sara crossed her arms back. “We absolutely do  _ not _ need to talk.”

“Normally, I’d agree,” Ava said, crossing the room and sitting down on her perfectly made bed. “Except that right now, we have eight impressionable eleven-year-olds out there, watching us. And I guarantee that they can tell we haven’t been getting along.” 

Ava paused, looking down at the comforter. “Because trust me, no one is ever as good as they think they are at hiding when they’re fighting with someone.” She let out a short, bitter laugh, and the amount of acidity lacing the words took Sara by surprise. “I’m kind of an expert on the subject,” she added, quietly.

“You think you’re an expert on a lot of things, don’t you?” The snipe was out of Sara’s mouth before she could stop it. She knew, she  _ knew _ , it was the wrong response. But she couldn’t quite help it, still hadn’t quite forgiven Ava for what she’d said two days ago.

Even though it was Sara’s own fault that it was a topic of conversation in the first place.

She shook the heaviness off of her shoulders, and went to sit on her own bed.

Ava let out a quiet sigh, her face falling, taking on an expression of defeated vexation. “Forget it,” she said, her voice hard. “This clearly isn’t working.”

“Hey,” Sara said, shrugging. “You’re the one who said we needed to talk.”

“Yeah, and I’m really starting to regret that life choice right now,” Ava muttered, looking up at the ceiling and closing her eyes. 

“Yeah,” Sara echoed, hopping back up. “I’m out of here.” She took a couple of quick steps toward the door.

“ _ Except, _ ” Ava added, sharply, causing Sara to pause, “That we still have eight impressionable eleven-year-olds out there, and earlier this morning I heard one of them say, ‘I think camp-moms are fighting again.’”

Sara stared. “Ex _ cuse _ me?”

“I know,” Ava said, holding up her hands, as though in pretend surrender. “Those were  _ her _ exact words, and I’m not exactly thrilled about it, either.”

Sara plopped back down on her bed, digging at a loose thread with her thumbnail. An odd sort of uneasiness overtook her, and she gave Ava a wary side glance. 

She and Ava had never actually  _ talked _ , per se, about much. They’d had plenty of words to say to each other, but not actually  _ talked _ , in a normal conversation, face to face. And Sara was absolutely positive that she didn’t want to start now. But here they were, and Ava was right about this, at least, even if Sara would absolutely never say those exact words.

Because she and Ava were the people in charge, and they were the examples, and if they were going to properly do their jobs, they needed to come to some kind of vague understanding, at the very least.

“Okay,” She said, finally, placing her palms face down on her legs and pressing the tips of her toes into the ground. “Let’s get this feelings shit out of the way.”

Ava widened her eyes just slightly before slipping into an eyebrow raise. “Who said anything about  _ feelings? _ ” she said, with such absolute seriousness that Sara had to actively hold back a snort. “This,” she added, locking her eyes onto Sara’s, “is strictly business.”

Sara barked a laugh. “And this,” she retorted, “isn’t Wall Street.”

Ava shrugged. “But sometimes it’s just as tumultuous, isn’t it?” she responded, without missing a beat.

Sara paused, blinking at Ava for a minute. Ava’s eyes were still fixed on her, too-bright and too-blue and full of a sort of steely determination that Sara wasn’t entirely sure she knew what to do with.

Ava broke the silence first. “Look,” she said, tucking a lock of hair that had managed to escape her bun behind her ear. “I know that…” she paused, swallowed. Started again. “I know that last time, I crossed a line.” She held a hand up as Sara opened her mouth to respond, and Sara felt the beginnings waves of her usual irritation begin to build up at the edges of her mind.

“I didn’t realize at the time,” Ava continued, “Exactly how big a line that was. But now I know I crossed it, and it won’t happen again.”

The irritation began to dissipate as quickly as it began. Sara wondered, briefly, if it would always be this way with Ava: the ebb and flow of her temper, like waves, cresting and crashing into her chest. 

“Honestly,” Ava was saying, now fiddling with the hem of her shirt sleeve, “All rumors aside, I  don’t really know the details of what happened last summer, and I really don’t care. That’s your business.”

“Too bad you made it your business when you decided to bring it up,” Sara shot out, the words hard and cold, falling like ice from her lips. Ava winced a little, then crossed her arms.

“Right,” she said. “Well, all personal stuff aside, there are other issues to address.”

It was all Sara could do to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“Uh huh,” she said, evenly, raising her eyebrow. “Such as?”

Ava fixed her with another one of  _ those  _ stares, and Sara looked away, pretending to adjust her bracelet. “Like you undermining me at every turn.” 

Sara flashed her eyes up at Ava. “Pardon?” she asked, pressing all the venom she could muster into that one word.

Ava didn’t flinch. “Listen. I know the kids don’t know me like they know you. I know they’re not as familiar with me, that they don’t…” she trailed off, shrugged in a way that, had it not been Ava, Sara would have referred to as self-deprecating. 

“That they don’t like me as much,” Ava finished, her voice wavering slightly.

Sara froze, waited, not entirely sure how to respond to this new, strange turn of events. Ava continued.

“It might help, though,” she said, “if you didn’t tell them the exact opposite of every single thing I tell them.” 

Sara wanted to argue; almost did, just for the sake of it, because that was how she and Ava communicated--how they knew how to communicate with each other. If you could call it that.

This, though. This was new territory. This was what Zari would refer to as  _ Feelings _ , with a capital F. 

“I guess that’s fair,” Sara said, slowly. “But that also goes both ways. I’ve been going to this camp since I was six years old. I’ve been a counselor for two years. I know these kids. I  _ care  _ about these kids. Next summer, when you’re off doing whatever else you decide to do, I’ll be here, with these kids. And having you come in and tell me that I’m doing everything wrong? Not my favorite. I’m not saying everything you do is wrong, but not everything I do is, either.”

Ava didn’t react, didn’t show any hint of agreeing or disagreeing with what Sara had said. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders, and said, “So basically, we just need to stay out of each other’s way. But together, in sync. You know. For the kids.”

This time, Sara let out an actual laugh. “Stay together for the kids, huh?” 

The corners of Ava’s lips twitched up into a smile. “Something like that.”

“Okay, Sharpe,” Sara said, giving Ava a quick nod. “Let’s see what we can do.”

* * *

“But like.  _ Why  _ make it if I’m just gonna  _ sleep _ in it again?” Sophie whined, half-heartedly tugging on the corner of her sheets.

“Because,” Ava said, picking up a pillow off the floor. “It makes a room look neater, less stuff gets lost, and no one knows when the camp director will come through for inspection.”

Sophie turned to give Sara a “please help me” look. Sara opened her mouth to say something along the lines of  _ Idk, I don’t make my own damn bed, I’m with you on this _ , when she caught Ava looking at her, almost warily.

Sara swallowed. Paused. Then, against her better judgement, and (and definitely against any self-preservation her pride had left) she started singing, “Late last night, while we were all in bed,” she paused, grabbed a corner of Kiem’s sheets, and motioned for Kiem to grab the other one. Kiem did, staring like Sara had grown another head. “Old Lady Leary left a lantern in the shed. And when the cow kicked it over, she winked her eye and said ‘it’s gonna be a hot time, in the old town tonight.’”

Ava was blinking at her, mouth slightly agape, still holding the pillow. Sara shot Ava her best  _ please just go along with this _ , look, then yelled, “FIRE FIRE FIRE!”  While dancing the sheet up the bed, motioning for Kiem to do the same. Kiem did, whether through utter bafflement or actual compliance, Sara wasn’t quite sure. Not that it actually mattered—the result was the same. 

“Okay,” Sara said. “You—“ she pointed to Sophie, “—and you,” she added, pointing to a girl named Hannah. “Grab those sheets. You’re on ‘water.’ Last one to finish the beds is stuck doing my bed, too, so get cracking!” 

A sudden, frantic mass shuffling, kids grabbing sheets, climbing over sheets, smoothing out sheets. Because Sara might be the “nice one,” but her whole cabin knew that when she said she was going to do something, she meant it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Ava open her mouth—undoubtedly to say that she was pretty sure that having children make their beds was against the rules—then snap it shut, in the exact same way as Sara. It would have been comical, if Sara hadn’t been able to  _ hear _ Ava’s voice in her head, reprimanding her, even though no words actually left Ava’s lips. She swallowed down the usual buzz of irritation, and started in on the next verse.

“Late last night—“ she began, and a chorus of voices, in varying levels of off-key, scream-sang, “WHEN WE WERE ALL IN BED!”

Ava gave Sara a look, then, something just a little indecipherable, and it made Sara anxious to see. But they weren’t fighting, and they weren’t yelling, and they weren’t shooting each other with daggers of words made to slice holes in their hearts. 

And that was progress, she supposed?


	7. I Swear I Don't Love the Drama, It Loves Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara wasn’t entirely sure why Ava incited so much ire within her. Because yes, the girl was an infuriating, uninvited pain in her ass--but Sara had dealt with people she didn’t get along with before.
> 
> Maybe it was the fact that Ava had hated her immediately-- intimately, without any doubt, Ava Sharpe had seemed to hate everything Sara Lance was, and stood for, and did.
> 
> But then, Sara had hated Ava, too. And some small part of her had to wonder if, maybe, Amaya and Zari were right. If it had to do more with who Ava wasn’t, than who she was.
> 
> Except she couldn’t forget the jabs, the nagging, the downright cruelty thrown her way; that Sara had taken, and absorbed, and hated, and still thrown right back. Not to mention Ava’s actual words, so sharp and bitter Ava had practically spat them off her tongue. I just really, really didn’t want to have to go home at the end of the day. Not that you’d understand what that was like. She didn’t know how to reconcile those words, how to make this new piece of Ava Sharpe fit into the (she was realizing) distressingly incomplete existing puzzle in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the turning point, y'all, and I'm so very excited to write the next bits.
> 
> THANK YOU for reading, and commenting. You guys are amazing.
> 
> Hope y'all are ready for some slow-burn Avalance, because I'm pretty sure this is where it truly begins <3

Sara sat down at the lunch table just in time to watch Nate carefully peel the pickles off his top burger bun. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Nate, why do you get pickles on your burger if you don't like them? It’s a burger _bar_ on burger days, you don’t actually have to get them on your burger,” she pointed out, grabbing the bottle of ketchup from its resting place next to Zari’s plate.

Wordlessly, Nate picked up the pile of pickles from his plate and slid them onto the edge of Zari’s. Zari, grinning, grabbed one with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. “Got ‘em trained,” she said, mouth full of pickle.

Amaya shot Zari a look of amused contempt. “Okay, but is there anyone you _don’t_ train to get you food?” she asked, taking a bite of salad.

Zari gave her a half shrug. “You’ve proven remarkably resilient.”

Amaya’s glowered, opening her mouth to no doubt remind Zari that you can’t go around training _people_ , but Nate spoke up instead.

“ _Speaking_ of death glaring one’s cabin-mates--” he began.

“Wait,” said Ray with a look of confusion. “Who was talking about death glares?”

“I will be in a minute,” Mick grumbled, chomping the end off a piece of bacon.

“ _ANYWAY,_ ” Nate chimed in, again, turning to look at Sara.”You and Ava have been looking far less like you’ve wanted to kill each other, lately. What gives?”

Sara shrugged, smacking the bottom of the bottle in a futile attempt to actually get ketchup to come out. “We’ve come to a sort of...detente.”

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Mick, shoving another piece of bacon into his mouth. Zari wrinkled her nose.

“It means,” Zari said, pulling her plate further away from Mick’s, “That they’ve agreed not to kill each other.” She fixed Sara with a bemused sort of grin. “So, who yelled first?” she asked, stealing the ketchup back from Sara mid-smack.

“Hey!” Sara protested, though she didn’t try to get the ketchup back. “And there was no yelling, thank you very much. We just reached an understanding.”

“An understanding not to kill each other?”

“Oh my god, Z. It’s just that that kids were starting to notice something was up. That’s all.” She paused, taking a sip of water. “One of the kids called us ‘camp moms,’” she added. She could only assume the look of disdain on her face reflected her feelings, because Zari nearly spat out her pickle.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, choking a little.

"Yeah," Sara said, with a pained grimace. "It wasn't great. So, we decided to try and put our differences aside for the sake of the kids."  
  
Zari stared at her for a moment, furrowed her brow, and said, at last, to the group at large, "So like, not to actively root against you or anything, but who wants to start the pool on how long this lasts?"

Two hands shot up (Nate, Mick), and two tentatively rose (Ray, Amaya). Sara groaned, throwing a french fry at Zari. “I genuinely hate all of you.”

Zari dodged the fry and grinned. “No, you don’t. But don’t worry, Cap. We all love you, too.”

* * *

 

It was something stupid, really; something small, and insignificant. A messy counter, an offhand comment, something that really, really shouldn’t have bothered her so much. But there they were, ready to go, the air tight and electric, crackling, as though it was just waiting for a small spark to ignite around them.

“Literally why do you care so much?” Sara snapped, her jaw clenching. She could feel the fire building, once again; flames flickering through her veins, smoke forming a billowing black fog behind her eyes, a dull, pressurized roar. “I know the people like you,” she went on. Now that she’d started talking, like always, with Ava, she couldn’t quite find a way to _stop._ “I _know_ why you’re here. This is just all one big college application to you, I’m sure. Something to put on the resume, to make you look good. To help prove why you’re worthy of valedictorian. To help you get into a better college. But once you’re gone, once you’ve left next year to go to math camp or science camp or leadership camp or whatever of the six internships you choose from, I’ll still be here. With these kids. Like I have been my entire life.”

Ava stood, unmoving, looking at Sara with the coldest expression Sara had ever seen on another human being. Her eyes narrowed into slightly, her whole body frozen, eyes glittering-like-ice, once again. When she spoke, her voice was flat, and distant, and far, far too grey.

“You know _nothing_ about me,” she said, quietly, her voice raw and biting. Sara resisted the shiver that tried to tear through her body at the unfamiliarity, the absolute frigidity of Ava’s tone. She had seen Ava angry, and upset, and even fired up for a fight; but she had never, ever seen this level of flatness, before. And that was far, far worse.

Sara drew a breath in through her nose. “Well,” she pressed out, her own voice a low hiss, “Why don’t you _enlighten_ me, then?” Her throat was raw, her skin

She regarded Sara for a moment, that same, calculating way she had the first day they ever saw each other, during counselor training. “You know,” she finally said, her voice barely above a murmur. “I _could_ have gone to math camp. I could have gone to science camp. Or leadership camp, or band camp.”

Sara barked a harsh laugh. _What a fucking surprise_.

“I _could_ have,” Ava continued, pressing the words through clenched teeth. “But every single one of those are _day camps_ . Day camps I’ve attended before, with my sister. But sometimes…” Ava trailed off, fixing Sara with a steady glare, harsh and unmoving. “If it’s really _so vital_ that you know, I just really, really didn’t want to have to go home at the end of the day. Not that you’d understand what that was like.”

With those words, Ava spun around, and slammed her way out the door, leaving Sara standing there, simmering, fire sizzling out into ash.

* * *

Sara spent the next two hours getting the kids to afternoon activities by herself. Two hours of fake cheerfulness and dodging questions about where Ava was (“she’s not feeling well, guys, guess you’re stuck with just me for a while!”) and her own questions swirling around in her mind until she was dizzy, settling into her stomach in a hard lump, filling her chest and expanding like cement.

Two hours until she was finally able to pull herself away, leave the kids with another activity counselor, and head to the one place she always went when she had to work through her problems. When the thoughts grew too big, when memories and worried tangled themselves into knots in her head, in her heart, catching and breaking like gossamer.

She had spent countless hours there, sitting and mulling, raging, inhaling the sharp scent of wet wood and hay, pounding her fists into targets, trees, and solid, packed ground; crying. Though she’d never admit to that last one.

Sara wasn’t just good at archery; she was one of the best at camp. And as she let arrow after arrow fly, marching their way inward toward the yellow middle of the bullseye, faded and torn, she felt her chest let go, just a little; felt the knot start to unravel, felt the weight start to lift, just very slightly, off her lungs.

Her mind, however, was no less confusing, her thoughts no less tangled, her questions no less pressing and unwelcome, tugging at the corners of her mind.

Sara wasn’t entirely sure why Ava incited so much ire within her. Because yes, the girl was an infuriating, uninvited pain in her ass--but Sara had dealt with people she didn’t get along with before.

Maybe it was the fact that Ava had hated her _immediately--_ intimately, without any doubt, Ava Sharpe had seemed to hate everything Sara Lance was, and stood for, and did.

But then, Sara had hated Ava, too. And some small part of her had to wonder if, maybe, Amaya and Zari were right. If it had to do more with who Ava _wasn’t_ , than who she was.

Except she couldn’t forget the jabs, the nagging, the downright cruelty thrown her way; that Sara had taken, and absorbed, and hated, and still thrown right back. Not to mention Ava’s actual words, so sharp and bitter Ava had practically spat them off her tongue. _I just really, really didn’t want to have to go home at the end of the day. Not that you’d understand what that was like._ She didn’t know how to reconcile those words, how to make this new piece of Ava Sharpe fit into the (she was realizing) distressingly incomplete existing puzzle in her mind.

So instead she tried, best she could, to force all thoughts of Ava Sharpe out of her mind. Ava, and her stormy eyes, and the way they’d looked straight through Sara with frustration and anger and pain and complete, empty nothingness. The way Sara looked at herself.


	8. Cause We Break Down a Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nice whistle, Sharpe,” she said, dipping her head in a slight nod. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
> 
> Ava regarded Sara for a moment, her face entirely indecipherable. Sara shifted, resisting the urge to pick at her cuticles--a nervous habit that she utterly hated, but couldn’t seem to drop. After a long, long moment, Ava dropped her shoulders into a shrug.
> 
> “Discipline isn’t always a dirty word, Lance.”
> 
> Sara raised an eyebrow at Ava, her forced smirk slipping into a wholly authentic crooked grin. She crossed her arms. Ava’s face slipped suddenly into a look of horror, her eyes widening just the slightest bit, before she groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, and thank you for reading! Thank you for continuing to read! Things are progressing, slowly. And I'm doing my best to write this fic, though it's so far out of what I'm used to (not angsy enough yet), that it's a bit tricky. Anyway, thanks for sticking with me, thus far! I love you all, and all your comments and criticisms help motivate me to write.
> 
> Also, have to admit, haven't reread this yet. I'll go through and edit in a bit, though.
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife. 
> 
> Happy Avalance-ing, you all!

“I hear you’re really good with kids.”

Sara stopped, halfway across the courtyard to Zari’s cabin. The voice had come from behind her, stated urgently, almost frantically, and she squinted through the fog to see a boy standing there. He was shuffling his feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the next as he tugged on his camp shirt.

Sara frowned, blinked. “Sorry...what?”

“I was told,” Gary repeated, more slowly, “That you’re really good with kids. And I need your help.” She continued to stare at him, confusion overtaking her. “ _Please,_ ” he added, a bit desperately.

Sara stood there, a little dumbfounded, attempting to wrack her brain for who she’d ever seen Gary talking to who might have possibly mentioned Sara’s ability to work with children. She’d seen him staring after Constantine, occasionally, the boy who she had--regrettably--had a _thing_ with as a 14 year old, their first summer of being counselors. And by _thing_ she mostly meant the occasional make-out session behind the mess hall. She very much doubted, however, that Constantine was bragging to Gary about her child-herding prowess.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, still frowning slightly. Gary blanched a little. Sara’s curiosity deepened.

“I can’t tell you. The person made me promise not to.”

Sara stepped forward, closing the space between her and Gary. She put on a light smile that absolutely didn’t meet her eyes. “Whatever they threatened you with?” she said, leaning in closer. “I promise you, I can do worse.”

His eyes widened, and she almost felt guilty, but the idea of anyone talking about her, given the current circumstances, made her extremely anxious. She raised an eyebrow at him, cocking her head, slightly, narrowing her eyes.

“Ava!” he blurted, holding up his hands. “It was Ava. Sharpe.”

“...What?” the word came out softly, far more softly than Sara had intended. _Ava_ had told him? Ava, who hadn’t spoken more than two words to Sara since the latest big blowout two days ago. Ava, who hated her, had told Gary to seek Sara, of all people, out for help?

Now it was Gary’s turn to frown. “Uh, Ava. Sharpe. Your co-counselor?”

“No, I...I know _that,_  I just--” she stopped, somehow even more confused than she’d been a few minutes ago.

He had to be wrong. Had to be lying, had to be making it up, or just misinterpreting. She shook her head, slightly.

“I…” she tried again, then bit her bottom lip. Shook her head, one more time, as though shaking her head would help her make more sense of the situation. “I just, I don’t believe you, why on earth would _Ava--_ ”

Gary cleared his throat. “Actually, her exact words were, ‘I mean, I _guess_ I might know someone who isn’t completely terrible with children.’” He shot her an almost apologetic look, and Sara had to roll her eyes. That sounded more like Ava. She relaxed, just a little, crossing her arms.

“What exactly is it that you need?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Gary’s face slipped from anxiety to relief.

“It’s my campers,” he said. “They’re just very...uh.”

Sara raised her eyebrows. “...yes?”

“They’re _seven_ year olds. And I think maybe one of them might be a future cult leader. He might even be a current cult leader. Either way, he’s the ringleader. There’s this Beebo doll and I think they worship it or something; you know, that way little kids do, except this thing has reached just...Xbox levels, or something. I think the ringleader stole it from his older brother and brought it to camp, and it really freaks me out, but they think he’s really cool for having it, and my co-counselor is Mick Rory, and I know he’s your friend, but also he won’t do anything more than yell at them to shut up and while they’re absolutely scared enough of him to do what he says, they 100% do not listen to anything I tell them to do and honestly I just need help.”

Sara stared, again. This was quickly becoming a common occurrence with Gary. “...Beebo doll? Like, from when we were kids? Like, ‘wah, wah, Beebo wuv you?’”

Gary’s frown deepened. “God, please don’t make the voice. I swear I hear that thing in my sleep. I keep expecting to wake up with its head in my bed or something. And they just _love_ it.”

Sara took an actual step back. “What the hell is going on in your cabin, Gary? This is summer camp, not a horror movie.”

Gary moaned, burying his face in his hands. “Look,” he mumbled. “I know that it sounds crazy. But they’re so hard to control, and Mick isn’t helping at all, and Beebo has become the cool new thing in my cabin, god knows why, and…”

Sara raised a hand to cut him off. “Okay, yeah. I understand. Serious intervention time. I’ll come, uh. Help wrangle the children.”

Gary’s eyes lit up, whether in actual happiness or simply pure relief, Sara wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered, really, because all she could think about was the fact that, for whatever reason, at whatever point, Ava had told Gary something nice about her. And Sara really, genuinely had no idea how to feel about that.

“Okay, Gary,” she said, sighing a little. “Lead the way.”

* * *

 

By the time Sara finished with the seven-year-old boys, it was well into morning. There had, in fact, been a group of seven-year-old boys teaming up to wreak havoc, but no more than any other group of seven-year-olds, and certainly not to the degree that Gary had described. There had also been a Beebo doll, clearly stolen from an older sibling that the kid wanted to be just like. Sara was fairly certain, however, that these children weren’t actually capable of forming a cult, though she did find Gary’s melodrama entertaining. It had taken a nothing more than a well-placed threat from her involving said Beebo doll (and some goading of Mick) to get the boys to agree to listen to Gary. How well that would actually work, she wasn’t entirely sure, but he did at least have the threat of herself and Mick behind him now.

The bigger issue at hand was not the seven-year-olds. It was not the weird resurgence of a childhood toy in popularity, or even, right now, the low gossip of the group of counselors who she was sure, all the time now, were talking about her.

It was Ava. Ava, and her brand new penchant for surprising Sara. Ava, who still hadn’t really spoken to her much since the last time they’d fought, but was absolutely still a stuck-up nag with an absurd penchant for following the rules. But right now, she’d been away for a solid hour, and was fairly certain that any version of Ava wouldn’t appreciate being left on her own too long with a room full of tweens.

The second Sara got back to their cabin, the girls descended on her. Ava was already there, attempting damage control, by the time Sara got in. Voices chorused, all at once, rising over each others, changing in volume and timbre and crossing over each other to form a horrible, dissonant chaos until a shrill whistle pierced the air. Everyone, Sara included, winced at the sound, but grew sharply quiet. Sara, still standing in the open doorway, turned to see Ava in between Lia and Sophie, two fingers still in her mouth. She glowered at the group of girls.

“WHAT,” she said, her voice low and even, “Is going on?”

Sara’s eyebrows shot up at Ava’s tone. Several of the kids looked at her, and she just shook her head at them.

“ _Well?”_ Ava demanded. “Talk.”

The voices started up again, the room descending into a new fresh cacophony for a moment.

“ _One at a time,_ ” Sara yelled above the noise. She slammed the door closed behind her. “You,” she pointed to Lia. “What’s going on?”

Lia’s eyebrows furrowed. “ _She,”_ she began, pointing to Sophie, “Told Matthew that she liked him.”

Sara sighed, internally. Of course. She looked up to see Ava’s face, which shared an equal expression of “for fuck’s sake.”

“And?” Sara coaxed, gesturing at Lia to continue. “What exactly is the issue with someone confessing their crush?”

“Because _I_ like Matthew,” she half-yelled, her fists balling up a little, her ponytail flopping as she spoke. “And I told _her_ ,” she spat, pointing to Sophie, “That I liked him. Then she went and told him that _she_ liked him.”

“That’s not fair!” Sophie protested, loudly, but Sara held up her hands.

“Look,” she said. “First off, I don’t know who did what or didn’t do what.” Several girls made noises, but Ava let out another long whistle, and the girls quickly quieted down. Sara shot Ava a grateful glance before continuing. “I don’t know who did or didn’t do what. But I _do_ know that absolutely no boy on this earth is worth all this. _Or,_ ” she added, meaningfully, “losing your best friend over?”

The girls still glared at each other, and said nothing.

“Okay,” Ava’s voice broke in from across the room. “Look. You like this boy. She likes this boy. Has either of you bothered to ask said boy who they like or don’t like?” Both girls shook their heads. “Right. Well first off, you can’t just assume these things. Second, you can’t just go divulging people’s secrets to other people.” Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but Ava held up a hand to stop her. “I don’t care who did what, or who said what. What I’m asking is for each of you to take the time to consider what Sara said. You guys have been friends for--”

“Eight years!” piped up Deja. Ava quirked a smile.

“Thank you, Deja. Yes, eight years. So what you need to do is have an actual talk about it. I’m happy to moderate this talk, and I’m sure…” she trailed off for a second, and looked over at Sara, who, understanding, gave a quick nod. “Sara is too. But this? This isn’t going to work. Does one of us need to moderate this?”

Both girls shook their heads, looking slightly sheepish. Sophie looked over at Lia, frowning. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at her feet now. “I shouldn’t have done it. I just like him, too.” Lia crossed her arms, eyes narrowed, and Sara had to resist the urge to grin. Then Lia shrugged.

“I don’t even know if I like him anymore, anyway. I kind of like Taylor.”

Ava’s eyebrows shot up, and Sara had to physically turn around to keep the kids from seeing her smile.

By the time she turned back around, the room had refilled with a calm, steady buzz. Sophie and Lia were talking, animatedly, in a corner.

Crisis averted. Sara stepped into the corner of the room by their door, where Ava was.

She and Ava looked at each other, hesitantly. Now, with no problem to solve, no 11-year-old drama to fix, the air stretched between them again, thick and electric. Sara licked her lips, and attempted to fix her face into a smirk.

“Nice whistle, Sharpe,” she said, dipping her head in a slight nod. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Ava regarded Sara for a moment, her face entirely indecipherable. Sara shifted, resisting the urge to pick at her cuticles--a nervous habit that she utterly hated, but couldn’t seem to drop. After a long, long moment, Ava dropped her shoulders into a shrug.

“Discipline isn’t always a dirty word, Lance.”

Sara raised an eyebrow at Ava, her forced smirk slipping into a wholly authentic crooked grin. She crossed her arms. Ava’s face slipped suddenly into a look of horror, her eyes widening just the slightest bit, before she groaned.

“Oh, my god,” she said, her voice taking on an exasperated tone. “ _Not_ what I meant, and you know it.” But there was no fire behind it, no animosity or bitterness tinting her tone, and her voice was almost teasing when she added, “Stop looking at me like that! Go just...throw your clothes on the floor or whatever else it is you do in there to make your half of the room look like a bomb went off.”

Sara laughed, just slightly, and though it felt out of place with Ava there, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Already did that this morning. No need to get too crazy.” She surveyed the room, now quiet, girls milling around reading and checking their phones and working on camp projects.

Ava saw her looking, and shook her head. “God,” she said, “all that drama, over a boy.”

Sara shrugged, and gave Ava a wry smile. “I know. But then, I guess I remember being eleven and discovering boys. Don’t you?”

“No,” Ava said softly, immediately. Sara flicked her eyes over to Ava. Ava turned her head away and shrugged. “I’m not really the boyfriend type,” she added, a tight smile overtaking her face before she slipped away. Sara stared after her, puzzle pieces moving and rearranging, something small clicking into place in her brain.

* * *

 

That evening, once they got the kids more or less settled into bed (not that Sara had any delusions about them _actually_ going to sleep; she remembered, quite vividly, the consistent stream of late nights that took place during any summer camp session when she was a camper), Ava lead the way back through the door into their shared room. Sara stopped in the doorway before entering.

“I better not hear you guys fighting,” Sara she called to the room at large, with half-mocking sternness. “I can tell you right now, there is _no_ boy that is worth that cr--” she caught herself. "--that much."

From the bed closest to her, Lia rolled her eyes. “Yes, _mom_ ,” she drawled. Sara bopped her on the forehead. “Good.”

She pushed into the back room, shutting the door behind her. She glanced over at Ava, who had already changed into some leggings and a soft looking flannel shirt.

She considered for about half a second before asking, “Why did you tell Gary about me?” The words came out far more demanding than she’d intended them to. But she’d dwelled on it all day; turned the situation over in her mind like a well-worn book, gone over all possible reasonings in her head, unable to account for the sudden almost-compliment Ava had given her. Something so uncharacteristically un-Ava. Not when they were not only _not friends_ , but actively disliked each other.

Ava paused. Raised an eyebrow at her, one hand on her hip, and gazed appraisingly at Sara. No coldness, this time; no malice, no grey, flat ice. Just calmness, and curiosity, and something entirely indecipherable, something Sara couldn’t quite place.

 

“Because it’s true,” is all she said, before turning away to grab a book off her nightstand.


	9. All Our Pieces Fall Right Into Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ava,” Sara said, undeterred, staring steadily into Ava’s eyes. “Do you really want to lose to Nate and Ray?” She gestured to the boys’ canoe, which was passing them, now. They could overhear Ray saying “Did you know that the surface tension of water is very strong, due to the intermolecular hydrogen bonding?” and Nate’s half-winded reply of “Great, Ray, PADDLE!”
> 
> Ava appraised Sara for a long moment. Finally, she dug her paddle back into the water. “Less talking,” she said, pushing hard. “More paddling.”  
> \---  
> Or, this is kind of a filler, but something kind of serious and something utterly ridiculous happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A FILLER CHAPTER WTF.
> 
> It sort of is, but a lot more happened in it (read: Chelsea) than I anticipated. Anyway.
> 
> No update yesterday, as I was celebrating my birthday. But now here's an update, and next chapter is nearly all written, and hoo, boy, is the next chapter loaded.
> 
> As always, thank you SO MUCH for the comments, and the kudos, and finding me on Tumblr to tell me about my story. It keeps me writing, and just super excited that people actually like this little summer camp AU that somehow turned into this project. Everyone ready for the REAL LIFE summer camp episode happening tonight??
> 
> Happy reading!

They thought it was the last of the 11-year-old drama for week.

It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

Because 11-year-olds (and 15-year-olds, if Sara was being honest) were wonderful at drama: a new boy to ogle, a new Snap to laugh at.

Except this was nothing like that, not really. This was something fresh, and quiet, and a little too close to home.

It started out simply enough: another camper, poking her head into the doorway. Another small, quiet voice, calling her name.

“Sara?”

Sara looked up to see Chelsea (or Chelsea 2, as she was called by most of them--there were two Chelsea’s, both blonde, both ponytailed, both from some outer corner of the suburbs of Star City, though they had little else in common and typically resented being lumped together). She was standing there, picking nervously at her sleeve, looking smaller than usual and more than a little lost. Sara could see Ava shifting in her peripheral vision, moving herself around the room so that she was more present, more prominent. 

Sara smiled at Chelsea, at attempt at a reassuring smile, and shifted so that she was sitting up, her feet pressed to the floor, her hands folded in her lap.

Chelsea hesitated. Her eyes darted between Sara and Ava, and she took a small step into the room from the open doorway. Sara raised her eyes and shot Ava a look. Ava’s face held the exact same concern and slight confusion that Sara knew hers did.

“It’s okay,” Sara said, more softly now. “You can come in and talk. We’re both here to talk.”

Chelsea took two more small, shuffling steps, the soles of her boots scraping along the wooden floor. Now that she was closer, Sara could see that her eyes looked glassy, just a little watery around the edges, and her concern heightened.

“Chelsea,” she said, quietly, calmly. “Are you okay?”

The second the words were out of her mouth, she realized how stupid they sounded. The girl was in here, with them, close to what appeared to be tears. Of course she wasn’t okay.

But it seemed to be what Chelsea needed, because she ran over and wrapped her arms around Sara’s waist.

“Hey, hey,” she said, wrapping her own arm around Chelsea’s shoulders. “What’s going on?” She looked over at Ava again, whose eyes held a wariness, now, woven into the worry. Ava got up and walked over next to Sara’s bed, sitting down so that she was at the same level. Her hip pressed slightly into Sara’s. Chelsea pulled back, her face paler than usual, the light freckles on her nose sticking out on the white.

“I, uh,” she began, nervously, not looking at either one of them.”how do you know when you...when you like someone?”

Sara let out a long, relieved breath. She felt Ava relax next to her, a little. This, at least, she could handle.

“Ah,” Sara said, shifting so she properly faced Chelsea. “Is this about a boy you like?”

Chelsea hesitated. Tugged on her sleeves. “I just mean what if…” Chelsea began, then broke off, the lost expression back on her face. “Just, how do you know you like someone? Does it just...happen?” 

Sara smiled, lightly. “Sometimes,” she said. “Often.”

“So…eventually, one of the boys will just. Catch my attention?”

Ava realized it before she did. Sara could tell by the way Ava’s spine stiffened, suddenly, next to her. The small, sharp intake of breath issued next to Sara’s ear, so quiet that Chelsea would never have noticed. 

But Sara did. And that’s when she realized what Chelsea was trying to ask without actually asking. What she was thinking, and not quite grasping.

Because of course, she realized. Because now that this entire cabin of 11-year-old girls have Discovered Boys, it’s all they talk about. What they giggle about at night, in the corners, behind their hands. Something that, had she been paying attention, she would have thought about the ramifications of more closely.

She  _ should _ have been paying more attention. Because now, thinking back, she had sort of seen it; seen the little things playing out, what should have clicked into place for her, but didn’t. A worried face, a confused, furrowed brow. An uncomfortable step back from the tight circle of gossip. The way she looked away, busied herself with the woodgrain of the floor every time the girls  started in on a new game of truth or dare, or a long, detailed conversation about the exact color of Ryan-from-cabin-12b’s-eyebrows.

“Chelsea,” came Ava’s voice from next to Sara’s ear, soft and soothing, calming in a way Sara didn’t know Ava was capable of. The breath on Sara’s hair made her shiver. “Is there a girl, here, that you like?”

Chelsea bit her lip, and nodded her head. “I mean,” she added. “I think so. That’s...kinda why I was asking.”

Ava put on the briefest of smiles. “I think only you will be able to determine if you like someone. But I can tell you that it’s okay if you like someone who isn’t a boy.”

Chelsea regarded Ava for a moment. “The other girls, they all like boys.”

Ava sighed, something like sadness passing over her features for the briefest second before she schooled them into a small smile. “Well, here’s the thing,” she said, placing her palms face down onto her thighs. “Plenty of girls like boys, plenty of girls like people who aren’t boys. That’s just how it is.” She paused, drew in a breath before continuing. “That said. It’s not always an easy thing, and people won’t always be okay with it.”

Sara turned, sharply, to look at Ava.

“Ava, you don’t have to scare her. There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with liking girls. Or anyone else”

Ava turned her own head to meet Sara’s, eyes cloudy, something like a storm brewing, building up behind them. “Of  _ course _ there’s nothing wrong with her,” Ava snapped, voice brittle and biting. “But I’m not going to sit here and lie and tell her that everything will be sunshine and daisies for the rest of forever.”

Sara wanted to say something else, wanted to argue, but she heard a small “What?” issue from Chelsea next to them. So rather than respond, Sara pulled Ava’s statement, still hanging between them, from the air; filing it to reflect upon at another time. She turned back to Chelsea.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Chelsea asked, a little fretfully, wringing her hands together anxiously, and Sara felt her heart fracture, just a little. “No, honey,” she said, the same time that Ava said “Absolutely not,” from next to her, her voice soft and firm. They both paused.

“You’re not doing anything wrong at all,” Sara said, pressing her lips into a smile again. “Lots of girls like other girls. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Ava’s right,” she added, and glanced over to see Ava looking at her, shrewdly. “Sometimes, people don’t like when other people are different. Which I’m sure you already know. So sometimes, people won’t be nice about it. Sometimes people won’t understand it. But that doesn’t for  _ one second _ mean that it’s wrong.”

Chelsea studied them both for a long moment. “Okay,” she said, finally, a smile overtaking the worry on her face. “Thanks.”

“Anytime you need, kid,” Sara said, ruffling the top of Chelsea’s head where it was pulled into a ponytail.

“ _ Ughhhhh, _ ” Chelsea complained, hopping away. “Now I have to redo it!” She scrambled out of the room.

Silence fell over the room, something heavy, and cloying, despite the noise issuing from the girls next door; the sort of silence that filled the cracks with its weight, dense and impenetrable.

Sara felt Ava shift next to her, and turned to look up at her as she stood. She opened her mouth to say something, to ask any one of the dozen questions buzzing around in her brain, but by the time the words formed on her tongue, Ava had already walked off.

* * *

 

“Ugh, Sara,” Ava said, chidingly from the front of the canoe that afternoon. “Cut it out. You keep splashing me because you’re paddling so fast. It’s not like it’s a race.”

Sara blew a wisp of stray hair out of her eyes. She was, she had to admit, being a little bit overzealous with her paddling that morning. But for good reason. Sort of.

She bit her lip, digging her paddle deep into the water, again, and pushing, hard. “Aaaactually,” she drawled, still paddling, “It kind of is.”

Ava paused, her paddle half-out of the water, and turned her body to look at Sara. “Pardon me?”

Their entire canoe turned, wavering dangerously, with Sara’s paddle stick stuck in the water. She yanked it out hastily.

She looked up at Ava through her eyelashes instinctively, the way she always did when she was attempting to sweet-talk her way in or out of something. “It’s  _ possible,” _ she said, slowly, “that I told Nate and Ray that we would race them, this morning, in our canoes.”

Ava glared back at her, unwavering. “That is absolutely  _ not _ camp-approved, nor is it safe, and there is absolutely no way I’m getting involved in it, nor getting campers involved in it.” Her voice held a note of finality to it, her paddle still suspended out of the water, and for one fleeting moment, Sara thought Ava was going to hit her with it. Sara shifted around to look directly at Ava.

“Ava,” Sara said, undeterred, staring steadily into Ava’s eyes. “Do you  _ really  _ want to lose to  _ Nate and Ray? _ ” She gestured to the boys’ canoe, which was passing them, now. They could overhear Ray saying “Did you know that the surface tension of water is very strong, due to the intermolecular hydrogen bonding?” and Nate’s half-winded reply of “Great, Ray, PADDLE!”

Ava turned back to Sara, releasing a long breath of air through her teeth. “And what about the kids? Because in case you forgot, we’re actual counselors, at actual camp, in charge of actual children.”

Sara waved Ava’s words off. “Please,” she said, as the tail end of the nine-year-old canoes passed their boat. Sara cursed internally. She did  _ not _ want to give Nate and Ray those bragging rights. She glanced over at Ava, again. “These are 11-year-olds, Ava. 11-year-old girls. And while 11-year-old-girls are, admittedly, known for getting distracted, they have the  _ nine-year-old boys.” _

Ava appraised Sara for a long moment. Finally, she dug her paddle back into the water. “Less talking,” she said, pushing hard. “More paddling.”

_ “Yesss,” _ Sara hissed, raising a fist in victory. Then, she raised both hands to her mouth, and called, “Okay, girls, last one to the short has to make their bed to Ava’s standards for a week!” before shoving her paddle into the water.

A collective groan echoed from the boats ahead, boys looking curiously back, and Ava turned to glare at Sara again, paddle not stopping its movement. “Seriously, Sara?” she said, a note of not-quite-irritation to her voice. Sara shot her a crooked grin.

“It’s a fate worse than death,” she said, seriously. 

She heard Ava mutter “Maybe for people like you,” and let out a laugh.

They pressed on, a solid bit behind, now, due to their late start; they smacked their paddles into the waves with hard, practiced movements, but weren’t making enough headway on the boys.

Finally, as they went around the next bend, they took a very sharp turn, and found themselves almost port-to-stern with Nate and Ray’s canoe. 

“You’ll never catch us!” called Ray, letting out an over-the-top super villain laugh. 

“Whatever, Ray,” Sara scoffed as they pulled closer. Ava said nothing, but dug her paddle into the churning water near the front of Ray and Nate’s canoe, and splashed, hard. She twisted the paddle, hard, spinning the water in circles until the boys’ boat was spinning sideways.

“What the fu--Sara, your co-counselor plays dirty!” called out Nate in protest, his voice fading out as Sara and Ava sped past them.

Sara gaped at Ava, a little, and she let out a long, long laugh. “Oh, my god,” she managed, a slight note of incredulity to her voice. “Ava,” she said, still laughing. “That was awesome.”

Ava shrugged from the front of the boat, still paddling furiously, but even from behind her Sara could see the corners of her mouth twitch up into a grin.

“I don’t like to lose,” she said, simply, and Sara let out another loud guffaw. 

“Shocking,” she said, and Ava gave a quiet “humph.”

As the shore drew closer in the distance, Sara could see that their girls were already beaching most of their canoes. She glanced behind them to see Nate and Ray still a solid 20 feet behind, but approaching, fast.

“Ava,” she hissed, frantically. “They’re catching up and I really don’t want to lose this so fuc--so   _ paddle! _ ”

Ava looked over her shoulder at Sara, mouth open, brows furrowed, a little, as though she was going to protest. Then, her eyes widened. “ _ Shit _ ,” she muttered. “Okay, let’s go!”

Sara pressed her paddle in faster, sweat dripping down her temples, salt stinging her eyes. She was wet from the shoulders down, spots of water freckling her shirt her every time one of them smacked their paddles into the water with what must be the worst technique she’d ever seen. She looked over at Ava. Her shoulders were hunched, slightly, locks of hair escaping her ever-present bun and whipping around her cheeks; she was flushed, spots of sweat and river water soaking through her shirt, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Sara felt herself smile, softly. She’d been right; Ava was just as into this, just as competitive, as Sara had thought she’d be.

With a final burst of power, Sara and Ava propelled their boat onto the pebbled shore. They both sat there for a minute, trying to catch their breath, still clutching their paddles in their red, sore fingers. The boys pulled up a minute later, voices raised in protest, shoving each other with their paddles.

“Oh, my god,” Ava half-groaned, half-laughed, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t believe we  _ did _ that.” 

“Yeah,” Sara gasped out, dropping her paddle, turning to Ava with a wild sort of grin on her face. “We did.”


	10. So Call It What You Want, Yeah, Call It What You Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara heard Ava before she saw her; she’d grown to recognize her fast steps, her even, regulated gait. Without turning around, Sara let out a soft sigh.
> 
> “Are you here to tell me everything I did wrong, with that situation?” she asked, sitting on her bed, looking up as Ava came into view.
> 
> Ava shuffled a little on her feet. “No,” she said, just a little too quickly. Sara raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Ava’s face shifted into a slightly guilty half-smile. “Okay yes,” she acquiesced. Sara lifted her hands up in bittersweet victory. “But also,” Ava said, “And more importantly, you did a lot of things right. A lot of things I didn’t think to do. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t reckless as hell,” she added, her voice slipping into the sort of sternness Sara usually heard from her teachers, “But it did, admittedly work out.”
> 
> Sara felt her lips twitch into a smile. “Ava Sharpe,” she said, teasingly. “Was that another compliment?”
> 
> Ava wrinkled her nose, crossing her arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.” She turned to walk into the bathroom.
> 
> “Too late!” Sara called after her. And when she heard the click of the door latch, she realized she was still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, you guys, last night's episode was perfect. Avalance, and tiny gay Avalance, and not forgetting about Ava's clone past (I was getting worried, and tbh I love angsty clone stuff). And so much of it was so similar to what I've written, so that's actually pretty exciting!
> 
> Back at it. Have this angsty chapter! As usual! Here's a fun spoiler: Next chapter we get a bunch of Sara and Ava interaction, without kids!
> 
> Happy reading, and hello new folks who just got started!
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife.
> 
> Comments and criticisms and general flailing are always appreciated, and i'm working my way through responding to the ones I've gotten so far. Love you all!

Sara shouldn’t have been surprised, really. She should have been more surprised, honestly, that nothing truly catastrophic had happened until now. 

Sara wasn’t quite sure what started it; she wasn’t able to get that information out of anyone, right away, nor did she care enough to try. Because right now, she was dealing with her third “Mom Counselor” moment in five days, and she was, quite frankly, exhausted.

All she knew was that it involved a call phone, and a Snap, or an Insta photo, or some other social media something that neither Sara nor Ava had bothered to pay attention to, and that one minute, they were all sitting outside, attempting to make (of all things) friendship bracelets. The next minute, in a flash of blue t-shirts and blonde hair, Chelsea 1 was physically  _ launching _ herself across the lawn at Kiem.

The chaos started instantly, girls scrambling back, launching themselves to their feet, yelling and shouting and calling their friends names and filling the space with an explosive .

Panic overtook Sara, a fast, sharp wave that crested, fast, then waned just as quickly. Because this situation, she realized, even as the shouting grew louder, more shrill, she’d been in before. How many fights, physical or otherwise, had she been in with her sister? How much hair pulling, and pinching, and How many times had she punched Alexis Sanders for calling Ray a nerd or Mick stupid? 

She pushed herself up, quickly, seeing Ava do the same. Ava paled, eyes growing wide, and she half-shouted, “I’m getting Rip!” before turning to run toward the main camp.

A fresh new wave of panic overtook Sara and, unthinkingly, she grabbed Ava’s arm, hard, as she turned. 

Ava spun back around, eyes wild, and Sara shook her head. “ _ Ava _ ,” she hissed, speaking as quickly and calmly as she could, “You can’t. Rip will kick them out for fighting, at least temporarily, and they won’t be allowed to come back for a couple of weeks, if ever. Give them a chance to sort their shit out before you do something that’s going to affect the rest of their camp life.”

Sara saw the hesitation in Ava’s eyes, flicking back to the girls, who were now pulling on each other’s shirts, and then back to Sara again. 

Sara knew she was squeezing too hard, knew her voice was far too low, and urgent, as though way, way more was at stake than two girls fighting over Snapchat. 

Because she’d also been a fighty little kid, as a child. Because right in the throes of her parents going through a nasty divorce, right through her mom moving to Chicago and leaving her dad with a broken heart and a drinking problem, Laurel had been assigned as her counselor. And when Sara had launched herself at another girl for making fun of god knows what (because it had been anything, and everything, that had set her off at the time), Laurel had been ready to run straight to Director Rip Hunter, and tell him everything Sara had ever done wrong. But Laurel’s co-counselor at the time, Thea, a girl with a sharp voice and sharper temper, had also known what it was like, then. And she’d stopped Laurel, taken Sara aside, and told her, in very plain language, to get her shit together.

And Sara had.

Because she knew what was at stake. She knew what it was like to have her entire summer life at camp. And though that sounded like a dramatic take on it, it wasn’t, not really. Because yes, it was just a summer camp; just a place where people sent their kids when they didn’t want to deal with them all summer. But it was also a place where she’d spent every summer for her  _ entire life. _ Where all her friends went, and some who she didn’t get to see the rest of the year. Where she’d had her first kiss--however awkward, however stilted, and far too toothy--with Oliver Queen, down by the canoe docks at night, when everyone else was feigning sleep. What it was like to have a place to escape to, when home got a little too hard and a little too cold and a little too read. The warm soft comfort of a second home.

And she knew what it was like to have the possibility of that taken completely away.

And while she couldn’t convey all of this to Ava in words, not right now, not eloquently, at all, in frantic arm movements and clipped phrases, something in her eyes must have caught Ava’s attention. Because Ava stopped, jaw still clenched, face still tensed, and waited. Sara nodded, relief flooding her, again, before she dropped Ava’s arm and bolted over to the girls.

They were all yelling, now, shouting things that Sara couldn’t make out had she wanted to. She grabbed the collar of each girl and yanked, hard, forcing them apart. She stepped between them, not letting go, and she thought for one brief moment that she was going to actually get punched by Chelsea 1. Sara stared at her, hard, one eyebrow raised, before Chelsea took a step back. Sara shoved them both on the shoulders, forcing them to sit.

“ _ Sit,”  _ she said, her voice hard. “Talk.  _ Now.” _

* * *

 

Sara heard Ava before she saw her; she’d grown to recognize her fast steps, her even, regulated gait. Without turning around, Sara let out a soft sigh.

“Are you here to tell me everything I did wrong, with that situation?” she asked, sitting on her bed, looking up as Ava came into view.

Ava shuffled a little on her feet. “No,” she said, just a little too quickly. Sara raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Ava’s face shifted into a slightly guilty half-smile. “Okay yes,” she acquiesced. Sara lifted her hands up in bittersweet victory. “But  _ also _ ,” Ava said, “And more importantly, you did a lot of things right. A lot of things I didn’t think to do. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t reckless as hell,” she added, her voice slipping into the sort of sternness Sara usually heard from her teachers, “But it did, admittedly work out.” 

Sara felt her lips twitch into a smile. “Ava Sharpe,” she said, teasingly. “Was that another  _ compliment? _ ” 

Ava wrinkled her nose, crossing her arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.” She turned to walk into the bathroom.

“Too late!” Sara called after her. And when she heard the click of the door latch, she realized she was still smiling.

* * *

 

It was raining, as it had been all day. Consequently, they’d been stuck inside, doing inside activities, for the entire morning, and the kids were extra antsy. Director Hunter’s solution to this had been to drag them all into the rec center and have an all-camp PE session. “To get the energy out,” he’d called it. Sara called it chaos, personally, and one look at the frazzled pair of counselors from cabin 8b, currently attempting to herd a bunch of eight-year-old-boys (Zari’s brother, Behrad, included) into some type of half-organized game of volleyball told her that she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Amaya and Zari had somehow convinced their eight-year-olds that they really, really wanted to play a game of freeze tag (Sara suspected that Zari was involved, as freeze tag required them to hold perfectly still and be semi-quiet for extended intervals of time). Sara and Ava’s group had started out by creating a distressingly disorganized round-robin of hand clapping games which, in theory, sounded fine. In reality, however, it meant a horrid orchestra of off-beat claps, increasing in speed, and a myriad of variations on “Down by the Banks” that Sara had never heard before, and was pretty sure weren’t entirely appropriate.

This continued, in painful harsh discordance, until one of Zari and Amaya’s campers ran up to one of the Chelsea’s in Sara and Ava’s cabin, smacked her on the shoulder, and yelled “You’re it!” loudly in her ear (Sara, once again, suspected that Zari, and possibly a bribe, were involved). This had then started a sort of domino-effect of eleven-year-olds peeling off and chasing the eight-year-old, which led to them chasing the  _ other  _ eight-year-olds, and while Sara wasn’t entirely sure that the activity would technically be “Rip approved,” she genuinely couldn’t bring herself to care. Ava, to her credit, and for once, didn’t seem to care either; in fact, she seemed happy for the break, relieved, even, and they both peeled off in opposite directions to head to their respective counselor friends.

“Yo,” Zari greeted Sara as she approached the bench where they were sitting. Well, sort of sitting.  _ Amaya _ was sitting, back pressed against the hard plastic of the bench, and Zari was laying down, feet on Amaya’s lap, head propped up on a half-deflated rubber kickball.

“Yo yourself,” Sara said, standing over her, one hand on her hip. “So Z, you have anything to do with 

“Where was Ms. Stick-up-her-ass at breakfast this morning?” Zari asked, nodding her chin toward Ava, who was now involved in an animated looking conversation with Gary and a brown-haired girl, whom Sara was absolutely certain she’d been going to camp with her entire life, but had never spoken to. Sara shrugged, sitting down on one of the extra volleyballs next to the bench. It dug uncomfortably into her tailbone, but less than the floor would have, so she just went with it.

“She got some kind of phone call from her family this morning, so she took it while I took the girls to breakfast.”

“Ah, yes,” Zari said, with false fondness. “Mr. and Mrs. Stick-up-her-ass.” Sara lightly smacked Zari’s head with her palm at the same time as Amaya hissed “Zari!” chidingly at her.

“Honestly, though,” Sara said, quietly, “She’s not so bad.”

Zari sat straight up, yanking her feet off Amaya’s lap, the kickball falling to the ground next to them with a loud “fwoop.” Sara looked up at her, surprised.

“What gives, Z?” she asked, completely taken aback.

Zari said nothing, but studied Sara, eyes narrowed slightly, for a solid minute.

“No way,” Zari finally said, her voice en entire register lower than it had been. “No, Sara.  _ Not _ happening.”

Sara fixed her gaze directly on Zari’s. “What?” she asked, her chest tightening, a buzzing beginning in the corner of her mind.

Zari didn’t move. “We are  _ not _ doing this again, Sara. Not after what happened with Nyssa last year.” 

Sara went still, frozen, all semblance of teasing gone. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m so  _ sorry _ , Zari,” Sara said, the words low, and brittle, like ice. “That my own very private--and, actually, apparently very fucking public--heartbreak was so  _ inconvenient _ for you.” She stood up, the ball she was sitting on rolling away toward the back wall.

“But here’s some news. It wasn’t exactly fun for me either.”

Zari pursed her lips. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t fun for anyone.” 

Sara took a step back. She had Zari had had her share of spats before, but not with this. Never like this. She fixed her eyes squarely on Zari’s face. “Yeah, I’m out of here,” she said, coldly, turning away. 

“Sara!” Amaya’s voice called after her, her usual calm slipping into desperation. “Come back. She didn’t mean it that way, right Zari?”

Sara laughed, a humorless, flat sound that got lost in the chaos around them. “Yeah, that’s the thing, Amaya,” she said, still turned away. “I’m pretty sure she did.”

Sara took a step forward. As she moved, Ava caught her eye from across the room. She saw Sara headed toward the door, and tilted her head, slightly, questioningly. Sara shook her own head, and Ava paused, looking thoughtful. Sara looked away and keep weaving her way toward the door. Her stomach clenched, her throat tight, and she swallowed, painfully. Everything felt stretched, like her skin was pulled too tightly across her bones, her heart tangled in pieces along her ribs. As she reached the doorframe, her pocket buzzed. Sara paused, and pulled her phone out.

_ (958) 261-8437 _

_ iMessage _

_ Mon, July 9, 3:38 PM _

 

_ You need me to take the kids for a while? _

 

Sara blinked down at her phone. A number she didn’t recognize, but still a Star City number, and…

_ Monday 3:41 PM _

 

_ ava? _

 

_ They do call me that. _

Sara paused, took a moment to look up at Ava, again, who was pointedly not looking at her. She looked back down at her phone.

 

_ Monday 3:43 PM _

 

_ smartass _

_ how do you have my phone number? _

 

_ Rip gave all of us our cabinmates phone numbers. In case of emergency. _

_ yes _

 

_ Your eloquence is stunning. _

_ please just  _

_ yes _

_ watch the kids _

 

_ Okay. _

 

Sara looked over at Ava, again, who gave her another sharp nod. A small wave of gratitude overtook her for a moment, cracking small fissures through the ice, before she walked out the door, straight into the oncoming rain.


	11. Big Reputation, Big Reputation, Ooh You and Me We Got Big Reputations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary blinked at her. “But… why?” he asked, tapping the corner of the table with one finger.
> 
> “Look, Gary,” said Sara, bracing her hands against the edges of the table. “You owe me one. Which means, I’m going to sit at this bench, and you’re going to pretend that this is completely normal.”
> 
> Ava crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t owe you one, and yet here we are.”
> 
> “Yup,” Sara said brightly, through gritted teeth. “Here we are.”
> 
> Nora looked up again, eyeing Sara with poorly concealed intrigue. “Not to give the impression that I’m in any way invested in this, but I have a few questions, and all of them are why the fuck?”  
> \----  
> Or, Sara and Zari are still fighting, but say hello to Nora Darhk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! First off, I want to give a HUGE shoutout to my beta (and S/O) Lysippe, who is the dialogue queen and basically made this chapter happen.
> 
> Second, I wanna say it's not an especially long chapter, but I do enjoy it, and it was a bit crucial to setting up the Sara Ava friend dynamic later. I also have the next several chapters planned out. Don't worry, more happens coming up.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love all of your comments, and kudos, you guys are amazing! Visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife!

That evening, Sara did something she’d never done before.

She walked toward their usual table.

Then, she walked right past it.

She kept walking, straight down the row of counselor tables, until she came to the table where Ava was sitting with Gary and the girl they’d both been talking to before. Now that they were closer, Sara realized that girl was Nora Darhk--someone who Sara had known since they both started at camp as kids, but didn’t really talk to much, beyond the usual “Hand me a pencil,” or “we’re hiking today.” It wasn’t that they had actively avoided being friends, or speaking to each other; it was just that Sara kept to her friends, and Nora kept to herself, and it just sort of  _ happened _ that way. Nora was quiet, a bit of a loner, and didn’t seem to like most people. They’d all been a bit surprised when Nora had stayed on after aging out of regular camper status in order to become a counselor--but then, Sara reasoned, now, perhaps this was Nora’s home away from home, too.

Sara stood awkwardly for a moment, the three of them watching her, before firmly placing her tray down on the table next to Ava. Ava raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a “literally why are you here,” sort of look.

Nora glanced up at Sara, also raised an eyebrow in what Sara thought might have been confusion, and looked back down at her plate, shrugging.

It was Ava who broke the silence, frowning deeply as she leaned in and whispered in Sara’s ear. “Not to make this already awkward situation even more uncomfortable, but you didn’t seriously think that we’re friends now, did you?”

Sara scowled. “No, Ava,” she said, loud enough for Gary and Nora both to hear. “I do not think that we are suddenly friends. I just happen to have found myself in search of a new table, and yours had  _ plenty of empty seats _ .”

Gary blinked at her. “But… why?” he asked, tapping the corner of the table with one finger.

“Look, Gary,” said Sara, bracing her hands against the edges of the table. “You owe me one. Which means, I’m going to sit at this bench, and you’re going to pretend that this is completely normal.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Well,  _ I  _ don’t owe you one, and yet here we are.”

“Yup,” Sara said brightly, through gritted teeth. “Here we are.”

Nora looked up again, eyeing Sara with poorly concealed intrigue. “Not to give the impression that I’m in any way invested in this, but I have a few questions, and all of them are  _ why the fuck _ ?”

Sara grinned, a bit unkindly, across the table at her. “I thought you weren’t invested, Nora.” 

Nora snorted, lightly. “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you know my name.”

Sara scoffed. “Like you know my name.”

“Everyone knows your name, Sara Lance,” Nora said, dryly.

Sara’s stomach dropped, just a little, and she grimaced. “Yeah,” she said, flatly. “I suppose that they do.”

Nora shrugged, unapologetically. “It’s one of the more interesting pieces of camp gossip.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Ava glance at Nora, and glance back at Sara, meaningfully. She began to open her mouth, but Nora pressed on.

“Hey, I get it,” she said, monotonously. “My dad is in prison for murder. I know what it’s like to have people talk about you behind your back.”

Sara looked at Nora for a long moment.  _ Darhk. _ Of course. Like her father, Damien. The very same Damien that her own dad had helped put into prison years ago.

“Yes,” she said, slowly. “I suppose you would know a thing or two about that.”

“Uh, not to interrupt this extremely depressing bonding session,” Gary said, cautiously, “But what’s going on?”

Nora snorted again. “Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, looking right at Sara. “Sara clearly had a fight with her friends, and now she’s here, on the Island of Misfit Toys.”

Ava’s frown deepened. Sara glared at Nora. 

“Right,” Ava said, stirring dressing into her salad. “Moving  _ right _ along.” She turned to Gary, who was spreading liberal amounts of mustard onto a sandwich. “How are your seven-year-olds getting along?” 

And as Gary prattled on about his seven-year-olds, including the one he still referred to as “the future cult leader” (actual name Brayden, she found out), Ava managed to catch her eye, and nod her head, very slightly, toward Sara’s phone, currently lying face-down on the table in front of her. Sara raised an eyebrow at her, and picked it up.

_ HRM Ava Sharpe _

 

_ iMessage _

_ Mon, July 9, 6:36 PM _

 

_ Right, Lance. What’s going on? _

 

_ Cant i just be hanging out at your table for fun? _

 

_ No. _

 

_ Is that no as in im not allowed or no as in its not possible? _

 

_ Possibly both, if you don’t answer the question. _

 

_ Zari said some shit okay? _

_ I wont be your problem tomorrow _

 

_ You’ll be my problem tonight, in our cabin. _

 

_ Why is there no suggestive eyebrow raise emoji? _

 

_ Literally because of people like you. _

 

_ What I mean is, you’ll be my problem all summer. It’s in my best interest to know what’s going on. _

 

Sara watched Ava pause, fingers hovering over her phone screen hesitantly before continuing.

 

_ Mon, July 9, 6:45 PM _

 

_ And I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. _

 

Sara glanced up at Ava, who had her eyes trained on her salad now. She looked back down at her phone. 

 

_ Mon, July 9, 6:45 PM _

 

_... _

_ Because you cant wrangle the eleven year olds on your own right? _

  
  


_ Yes, Sara, that’s exactly why. _

  
  


Sara could practically feel the eye roll coming off the words. But when she looked up again, a small smile was playing around the corners of Ava’s lips.

* * *

When Sara showed up to breakfast the next day, Ava raised an eyebrow at her.

“I thought you were done being my problem after last night,” she said, irritation-laced amusement tinting her voice.

“And I thought I was your problem for the entire summer anyway,” Sara shot back, pasting a slightly menacing, overly-toothy smile onto her face.

Nora looked from Sara to Ava back to Sara, and let out a long suffering sigh. “And now, you’re  _ both _ my problems,” she said, before digging into her pancakes.

Gary opened his mouth to say something, but Nora waved him off. “Yes, Gary, you too.” Gary grinned.

“Awesome! So does this mean Sara is our friend, now? Like, officially? I know Ava said they weren’t friends but she’s here again even though she said she wouldn’t be, and--”

“ _ Gary _ .” Sara interrupted him mid-sentence, holding up a hand in the same way she had seen Nora do when she wanted Gary to stop talking, and Gary’s mouth clamped shut mid-word. She wondered briefly if Nora had trained him like Zari had apparently trained her campers. “We are not friends. Sorry to burst the bubble. I’m just cooling my heels until I can see Zari without wanting to punch her face in.”

Ava shot Sara a glance, frowning just slightly. Sara glanced back, raising an eyebrow.

Gary’s face fell in disappointment, and he muttered a dejected-sounding “Oh” that almost made Sara want to take it back. Not quite, but almost. 

But he seemed to bounce back quickly enough, and within a minute he had pasted the same goofy grin on his face, saying, “Oh, Nora! How’s your new co-counselor?”

Nora gave him a hint of a smile. “Not the worst,” she said, sipping at her coffee. “Better than my last one. She’s from England and also hates everybody. At the very least it’s better than being in charge of the seven-year-olds by myself for another week. ”

Sara nearly spat out her orange juice. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, laughing. “It was just you--” she coughed, laughed, coughed again, “--and the seven-year-olds, for the entire week?”

Nora raised an eyebrow, imperiously. “Yes,” she said. “And, amazingly, no one in  _ my _ cabin got into a fist fight.”

“Hey!” chorused Sara and Ava at the same time, before looking at each other in utter horror.

Nora stared, the beginnings of a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yes?” she asked.

Sara and Ava glanced at each other again. Sara pressed her lips together.

“That was hardly under our control,” Ava added, after a beat.

Nora shrugged. She took a long sip of coffee. “Well that’s the point, isn’t it?” 

* * *

On the third day of eating at their table, Nora shot Sara a  _ look _ upon sitting her tray down next to Ava. Sara frowned.

“ _ What?” _ she asked, annoyed. She’d gotten exactly one-and-a-half hours of sleep, a fact that she was absolutely positive Ava knew, given the magnitude of her nightmares, and she was in no mood to play games.

Nora shrugged, as usual. “Just thinking about how far you’ve fallen,” she said, simply. “Going straight from the top to the Loners Club.”

“Hey!” protested Gary, but Nora waved a hand at him.

“You two weren’t here last year to see it,” she said, gesturing to Gary and Ava, who were now giving her looks of interest and concern, respectively, “But Miss Lance here used to be the camp Golden Girl.”

Sara’s cheeks burned, her eyes blazing as she looked at Nora. She laughed, dry and humorless. “Yeah, you sure you’re not thinking of my sister?”

Nora scoffed. “Like I could ever confuse you with Laurel.”

Sara scowled. Of course, as always. Sara could never be confused with Laurel; Laurel, who managed to get everyone to like her. Laurel, who was able to control her temper around other people, who didn’t get into fights, or fall in love with people she wasn’t supposed to.

“And uh, no offense to your family and all,” Nora added, “But your sister really needed to calm the fuck down. Girl had a serious superiority complex.”

Sara’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and she couldn’t help a small grin. “No offense, huh?”

“Well,” Nora said, matching her stare. “Not to you, I imagine.”

Sara laughed, wondering when, exactly, she’d made sort-of-friends with Nora Darhk.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Not so much.”


	12. Is It Cool That I Said All That? Is It Chill That You're In My Head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zari huffed, blowing out a frustrated puff of air. “Look,” she said, crossing her arms, frowning. “Can we like. Can we just do the thing?”
> 
> At Zari’s words, Sara, in spite of herself, gave Zari the sort of suggestive look she usually reserved for the discomfort of Ava Sharpe.
> 
> “I believe what Sara is trying to say,” drawled Nora’s voice from the table, “is that Sara’s not into you like that.”  
> \--  
> Or, Sara and Zari talk, Nora and Zari talk, the Legends all talk, and Ava talks to Sara, a lot, much to her surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plodding along, everyone. I'm so glad that so many people liked Nora Darhk! I kind of love writing her, and I'm hoping to have her in more chapters coming up, so I'm really glad to see that. I have a sneaking suspicion that this chapter will be received positively, so hopefully that's also the case. 
> 
> Thank you, as usual, for working with my slow-burn self. It's just how I write, but I always find that it makes for a more interesting story, so here we are.
> 
> As always, NaNoWriMo plods on, though I with the way everything is planned out I really think this story will go on straight through November and into December. I'm also planning on writing for a two different winter fluff-a-thons, one for Avalance (Info here, for those who are interested: http://thebestdressedrebelinhistory.tumblr.com/post/179494316409/avalance-2018-winter-fluff-a-thon), and one for Hicsqueak (info here: http://cassiopeiasara.tumblr.com/post/178823039318/worstwitch-2018-winter-fluff-event)
> 
> Now that I've rambled for a billion years about this, onto the actual fic. Hope you all enjoy! Visit me at iliveinfantasylife on tumblr.

Sara had just settled herself at the table next to Ava when she heard a pair of boots clomp up behind her.

“Uh,” said a voice that was definitely Zari’s, and Sara tensed. She pressed her lips together, and didn’t say anything.

“Sara,” Zari continued, uncomfortably. “I, um. I’m really bad at this, but. Can we maybe go somewhere and talk?”

Sara spun around on the bench and looked up at Zari, glaring a little. “Did Amaya put you up to this?”

Zari huffed, blowing out a frustrated puff of air. “Look,” she said, crossing her arms, frowning. “Can we like. Can we just do the thing?”

At Zari’s words, Sara, in spite of herself, gave Zari the sort of suggestive look she usually reserved for the discomfort of Ava Sharpe.

“I believe what Sara is trying to say,” drawled Nora’s voice from the table, “is that Sara’s not into you _like that.”_

“Oh my god, Nora,” Zari groaned, “That’s obviously not what I meant.” Zari stopped, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Also, that’s definitely the first time I’ve ever heard you speak. I really thought you communicated in crows let out at midnight and horse heads in beds.”

Sara looked over at Nora who grinned, humorlessly. “Did you care to find out?”

“Nora. Zari. Play nice,” said Sara, in her Counselor Voice.

Nora looked at Zari, then back Sara. “This one seems okay,” she announced.

“I feel like I should be offended,” Zari muttered to herself, then looked back at Sara. “Seriously,” she said. “Can we please talk somewhere that isn’t here?”

“No, no, go on,” Nora said, resting her chin on the back of her hands. “This is getting interesting.”

“ _Please,_ go somewhere else,” Ava groaned. “I can _not_ handle this talk happening here. In fact, I can’t handle what’s happening right now.”

Sara sighed. “Yeah, sure,” she said, tiredly. She got up, abandoning her tray on the table, and said, “I’ll be back for that.”

“Doubt it,” called Nora as Sara walked away. Sara ignored her, and followed Zari past the other tables, eyes following them, and around the corner of the mess hall.

Sara and Zari turned to face each other. Sara crossed her arms, but before she could say anything, Zari launched into an explanation.

“Look, Sara. It wasn’t. Amaya was right, I really _didn’t_ mean it that way,” she said, fiddling with the ruby necklace she always wore. “It’s just. It was terrible, honestly, to see you go through that. And not everyone knew, but Sara,” Zari’s voice cracked, a little. “We knew what thin ice you were on. How you almost weren’t allowed back this year, after that. And I just, I guess.” She dropped her hand, and looked up at Sara’s face, swallowing, hard. “I just really didn’t want you to be kicked out for good, this time.”

Sara’s mouth opened in surprise. She hadn’t known what she’d expected to hear, really. Some sort of half-hearted thing; a joke, maybe, or a snarky remark. She and Zari were similar in a lot of ways, she knew, and one of those ways was how truly atrocious they were at feelings. Sara studied Zari, for a moment, then raised an eyebrow.

“So, you have to practice that one?” she asked, grinning lightly.

Zari groaned and smacked Sara lightly on the shoulder. “Fuck off,” she said, laughing. “That was hard.”

Sara laughed too. “I know,” she said. “It looked like you were struggling.” Her laughter fell away and she added, “Honestly, just. Thanks. It’s nice to know everyone cares so much about me being here.”

Zari rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, my god, Sara,” she said, drawing out Sara’s name over several syllables in exasperation. “We love you, you dumbass.”

“Always the charmer, Z,” said Sara, cheerily. “Besides,” she added, looking down with a half-smile. “Don’t worry about that situation happening with _Ava--_ I’m pretty sure that after three days of eating with them, she wants to kill me even more.” She huffed a laugh, and lifted her head to look at Zari.

Zari was watching her with an oddly pensive, quizzical look. Sara frowned at her. “What, Z?”

Zari let out a sigh that turned into a sarcastic sort of smile. “Absolutely nothing, Cap,” she said, slapping an arm around Sara’s shoulder.

“Come on,” she said, leading them back toward the mess hall. “I know one or two people who will be glad I got my shit together.”

* * *

 

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

_iMessage_

_Thur, July 12, 8:42 AM_

_YOU NEVER PICKED UP YOUR TRAY_

_Read 8:44 AM_

 

“Shit,” Sara muttered to herself, tearing back into the mess hall.

* * *

 

“Oh, hey,” said Zari through a mouthful of pasta at dinner that night. “You guys seen that new counselor yet? She looks _exactly like Amaya.”_

Sara snorted. “Yeah, Amaya if Amaya suddenly developed a penchant for punk and a British accent.”

“Hot,” piped up Mick.

Amaya huffed, letting out an irritated breath. “WHO is this girl you keep talking about? People keep coming up and telling me about her, but I’ve never seen her, and I swear you guys are pulling some elaborate prank.”

“Amaya,” said Zari, seriously, placing a hand lightly on Amaya’s shoulder. “Do you honestly think that we--” she cut herself off. “No. Do you honestly think that _Raymond Palmer_ here--” she gestured at Ray, who was currently busying himself with tying carefully crafted knots into a lanyard, “Is capable of pulling that kind of long con? Of lying to your face about something like this?”

Ray looked up at the sound of his name. “What did I miss?” he asked, looking at them all looking at him.

Nate snorted. “Nothing at all, man,” he said, clapping Ray on the back. Ray smiled.

“Oh, cool.” Then went back to tying knots.

Zari raised an eyebrow at Amaya as if to say, _see? This is what I’m talking about._ Amaya studied Zari’s face for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. Where is this girl?”

“Oh!” Sara said, remembering. “She’s Nora Darhk’s new co-counselor. Apparently she’s cool.” She swirled some pasta around her fork

Everyone except Zari stared at her.

“What?” she asked, frowning, the forkful of pasta halfway up to her mouth, feeling more than just a little like a classroom study.

“It’s just,” Nate began, “We didn’t realize you’d gotten so... _friendly_ with Nora Darhk.”

Sara stared back. “Guys, I ate with them for three days straight.”

Nate shrugged. He pulled apart his dinner roll. “I just mean. I didn’t realize she talked enough for that to happen.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Zari said, rolling her eyes. “She’s a _real_ chatterbox.”

“So, what does she like to talk about?” Ray asked, far too casually, not looking up from his knots.

Their heads all whipped around to face him. Zari raised an eyebrow at him. “Ray, you have _no_ subtlety,” she said, laughing.

“But more importantly,” added Sara, “Why is _Nora Darhk_ your type?”

Ray’s face paled, then went pink. “She’s not!” he insisted, far too quickly. Then, “I mean, I guess she’s. Attractive, objectively. In a scientific way.”

“Ah, yes,” said Zari, fondly, stealing a bunch of grapes off of Sara’s plate and popping one into her mouth. “Raymond Palmer, sexually attracted to science.”

“That’s just sad, Haircut,” said Mick, taking a large gulp of juice.

“Not to interrupt this riveting discussion about Ray’s love life,” Sara said, stealing her grapes back from Zari. “But Ray, what the actual fuck are you _doing?”_

Nate sighed and answered before Ray could. “Yeahhh, so, you know how everyone called him ‘Kid Counselor’ when we were campers here?” he asked.

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Yes…” she said, slowly, drawing out the word.

“Right. So turns out one of our kids,” said Nate, tilting his head over toward where his table was eating dinner, “is also a Kid Counselor. Ray is making him a new lanyard.”

Sara’s face slowly morphed into a grin. “Oh, my god,” she said, laughing.

Ray held up the lanyard and grinned. “It’s almost done!” He said, proudly, and Zari patted him on the shoulder.

“Well done, Ray,” she said, seriously. “You’re indoctrinating a whole new clan of children into nerd-dom.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it, Ray,” chimed in Amaya, shooting Zari a look.

Zari sighed. “I’m sure he will, though,” she acquiesced, patting Ray on the shoulder again.

* * *

 

Sara leaned back on the bed, fiddling with her lanyard (the knot had come undone earlier after a particularly rough game of badminton), listening as Ava’s voice washed over her from the other side of the room. It had taken longer than usual to get the girls into bed for lights out (an entirely useless task, Sara knew, as even now she could hear the giggles filtering in from the other room), and Sara had expected their usual routine of changing into bedtime clothes, possibly some kind of small tiff (usually about the state of the bathroom--”Is it _so hard_ to keep the bottles contained to one single surface, Sara?”), and Ava reading in bed while Sara sent message after ridiculous message to the Legends.

Rather than their usual routine, though, and somewhat to Sara’s surprise, after changing, Ava had immediately launched into a long story about Gary, one of his campers, Jordan, and an obscenely bad misunderstanding involving a jar of dirt for a science project and some oreo cookie crumbs for cooking class.

Ava was a pretty good storyteller, much to Sara’s surprise, and she found herself laughing at regular intervals, and asking questions.

“But how did the kitchens fare? Did he have to go to the infirmary?” And Ava, just as amused and horrified by the story as Sara, answered each question in turn, exaggerating details with small hand gestures and light groans.

When Ava reached the end of the story, Sara pushed herself up so that she was sitting, a huff of laughter escaping her lips. “God, what a mess,” she said, shaking her head, grinning crookedly. She paused to look over at Ava, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, hand pressed to her forehead, laughing.

She was wearing her usual bedtime leggings-and-flannel ensemble, her hair still up in a bun, though it was more of a messy bun than her usual pristinely perfect knot. Pieces of hair were falling around her cheeks in wisps, her mouth now turned up into a half-smile, her eyes bright and sparking with a mirth Sara wasn’t quite familiar with in Ava. She looked oddly relaxed; calmer than Sara had seen her, and maybe, possibly, happy.

Ava noticed Sara looking, and bit her lip, brows furrowing, just slightly. “What is it?” she asked, a little cautiously, hand flying up to her collar as though she expected Sara to tell her there was something on her shirt.

Sara licked her lips, drew in a breath through her teeth. “Why are you telling me all this?” She asked, finally, the words quiet in the air. “This story, I mean. It’s hilarious, of course. But why tell me?”

Ava’s calm demeanor faltered, slipping quickly into the sort of cool composure she usually wore. Sara immediately regretted her words. She knew they weren’t friends, not really, but she also didn’t think they were enemies anymore, either. And seeing that side of Ava had been...unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.

Ava shrugged at her, now, looking away. “Just thought I should fill you in on the camp goings-on,” she said, voice overly-light, playing with the hem of her shirt.

Sara stared at Ava, hard, trying to decipher what she was hearing in Ava’s voice. An idea hit her, all at once, realization cresting over her like a wave. _Oh. There’s no way._ A shit-eating grin slowly spread across Sara’s face. “You _missed me,_ ” she said, unable to keep the amusement and out of her voice. Ava’s head snapped up.

“I absolutely did _not_ miss you,” she said, scowling deeply.

“Ava,” said Sara, in mock seriousness. “It’s okay. I understand if you missed me.”

“If I _had_ , for some godforsaken reason, actually been missing you,” Ava said, her voice low and even, her eyes narrowed, “This conversation would have wiped that feeling right out.” She glowered at Sara, who grinned back, until Ava let out a huff and an eye roll and reached up to turn off the light.

“Go to sleep, Sara,” she said, turning off the light without waiting a response. But rather than the usual hint of irritation in her words, the seemingly constant, continuous frustration that Sara seemed to elicit from Ava, Ava’s voice was, instead, laced with amusement; a softness, a fondness, a sort of light laughter filling the gaps between her words, in a way it never would have before.


	13. Please Don't Ever Become a Stranger Whose Laugh I Could Recognize Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ara walked up to the group of campers, brows furrowed. “Hey, guys,” she said, shouldering her bow. “Any of you seen Ava?”
> 
> “Nope,” said one of the ten-year-olds, Carmen, fiddling with the neon feathers of an arrow. “She never showed up.”
> 
> Sara frowned, confusion pricking at the corners of her mind. Ava was never, ever late to anything. Ava, who woke Sara up at 5:45 every morning so that they wouldn’t be late to breakfast. Ava, who showed up to the afternoon electives five minutes early, for no other reason than to be early.
> 
> Sara stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her phone, unthinkingly. She opened Ava’s messages, typed out, “where the fuck are you, Sharpe?” then hesitated, thumb suspended over the send button. She chewed her bottom lip.
> 
> She clicked off her phone without sending it.
> 
> She turned to the group of campers in front of her and smiled, pulling her bow back off her shoulder.
> 
> “Guess it’s just you and me then, guys,” she said to the group, ignoring the tiny niggling of concern that tugged at the corner of her brain. Ava was a big girl, and she could do what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter yesterday, but I had to run a book club at the high school and had a bit of a fever, I think. Back at it!
> 
> I know this story is a bit too slow-burn for some, and I'm sorry! But also, that's just kinda how i headcanon them, and how I know how to write. So we go on.
> 
> Enjoy this filler/character-dev chapter! I'm working on responding to everyone's comments, but I promise I read and absorb every single on, ecstatically! Thank you so much for reading!

For the first two weeks of camp, cabins always spent all of their activity time together. This meant that they spent their morning in assigned activities, their afternoon in some form of cabin-based free time, and every meal the campers had were taken with their cabinmates. The idea was for the campers to bond with the other kids in their cabin, form some sort of camaraderie; though being realistic, if Sara and Nora were any indication of that “forced bonding” time, it hadn’t worked super well in the years prior.

Nonetheless, every summer, that was how it stayed until the third week. Then, the kids were allowed to spend their afternoons every-other-day at electives of their choosing, while the counselors split off into various groupings to run said electives. This meant that, for the past week, Sara had been running her usual archery class for the children of camp Ogawa.

Archery was Sara’s thing _ , _ and before that it had been Sara and Nyssa’s thing, and before that it had just been Nyssa’s thing, where Sara would see her shooting between canoe races and nature hikes. As such, Sara spent a lot of time at the archery range, and the summer elective classes were always taught by her, in some capacity. So when Sara had walked onto the archery range that first day of electives, the week prior, to find a group of six campers and, of course, Ava  _ fucking _ Sharpe, it had felt like some sort of weird, twisted reflection of their first day at camp together. And it had taken everything Sara had in her to not turn around and walk right back off that field, clutching her heart in her ribs as though the entire thing was going to break, to freeze and fall out and shatter, become shards mingling with the dust. Because she had known, she  _ had _ , that it wouldn’t be Nyssa there. But some tiny part of her, some little bit of her painfully overactive brain had still been hoping that it would be Nyssa standing there, holding her bow, waiting for Sara with a smirk and a wink and a carefully crafted remark.

Now, however, that Sara and Ava had formed a sort of fragile peace, Sara found that, at the very least, it no longer felt like talons were tearing into the skin of her chest every time she walked into the range and found Ava there instead of Nyssa. Ava wasn’t half bad, either, though not at the same level Sara was. Not that many people were; The only others had been Oliver Queen; Oliver’s sister, Thea; and Nyssa herself, who had all been given lessons when they were younger (something that Sara, as the daughter of a police officer rather than a state senator, had not). Ava was at the very least competent, clearly having done archery of some kind before, and Sara suspected that that was why she’d been chosen to help with archery in the first place. Archery required a certain level of base knowledge, and Ava appeared to have that base, if nothing else.

So when today Sara ran onto the range, a little bit late, french braids flying, dust clinging onto the slightly damp skin of her ankles, Sara fully expected to see Ava there, standing and waiting and shooting her yet another look of slightly amused exasperation. But instead, all that waited for her when she got there was her little group of five very devoted kids (one had decided to do survival skills with Ray and Zari instead), standing there with their bows ready, their arrows in their hands, and no Ava.

Sara walked up to the group of campers, brows furrowed. “Hey, guys,” she said, shouldering her bow. “Any of you seen Ava?”

“Nope,” said one of the ten-year-olds, Carmen, fiddling with the neon feathers of an arrow. “She never showed up.”

Sara frowned, confusion pricking at the corners of her mind. Ava was never, ever late to anything. Ava, who woke Sara up at 5:45 every morning so that they wouldn’t be late to breakfast. Ava, who showed up to the afternoon electives five minutes early, for no other reason than  _ to be early _ .

Sara stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her phone, unthinkingly. She opened Ava’s messages, typed out, “where the fuck are you, Sharpe?” then hesitated, thumb suspended over the send button. She chewed her bottom lip. 

She clicked off her phone without sending it. 

She turned to the group of campers in front of her and smiled, pulling her bow back off her shoulder. 

“Guess it’s just you and me then, guys,” she said to the group, ignoring the tiny niggling of concern that tugged at the corner of her brain. Ava was a big girl, and she could do what she wanted.

* * *

 

“Your co-counselor is a little...intense, Sara,” said Ray at the table that night.

Zari snorted, loudly, and shot Ray a look. “No, Ray. Your discussion on 70 different types of fungi is ‘a little intense.’ Ava is on a whole other level.”

Sara’s head popped up from where she was absently picking at a piece of bread. “Ava was with  _ you _ ?” she asked, incredulous. 

“Unfortunately,” Zari grumbled, taking a large bite of peanut butter sandwich. She gulped water, eyeing Sara’s expression.

“Wait,” she added, mouth still half-full of sandwich. “You didn’t know?”

Sara ignored the rush of relief she felt, shoving it down, hard. “You seriously think that’s the sort of thing Ava would bother to tell me?”

“Wait,” said Nate, pushing his pickles onto Zari’s plate. She saluted him. “I thought you guys were like...not hating each other now.”

Sara wrinkled her nose. “That’s hardly grounds for a friendship, Nate.”

“And it’s hardly necessary to have an actual friendship to tell someone where you’re going to be,” countered Nate.

Sara rolled her eyes. “Right, so,  _ why _ , exactly, did you guys have Ava helping you today?”

“The children are just super excited to learn the fantastic art of survival skills!” piped up Ray, smiling widely.

“To be honest,” said Zari, “I genuinely have no clue. I can only assume people got bored of what they were doing and followed their friends to some random elective,” she said, shrugging.

“We had 20 campers today!” said Ray. “That’s nine more than usual.”

“Sooooo,” Zari added, drawing the word out with a dramatic sigh, “it meant they had to call in reinforcements, in the form of whichever people they could grab.” Zari bit one of Nate’s pickle slices in half. “Honestly,” she muttered, “it wouldn’t have been as bad if we weren’t also dealing with your ex-boyfriend.”

Sara blinked at her. “Sorry, what?”

Zari waved away Sara’s question. “Or whatever the fuck it was that you and Constantine called occasionally sneaking out and making out behind the mess hall,” she amended.

Sara made a face. “Jesus christ, Z, he is most  _ definitely  _ not my boyfriend.”

“That’s why I said ‘ex,’ Sara.”

“He’s not that, either! He’s--”

Zari held up a hand. “Sara, I absolutely do not want to know the sordid details of your pre-teen makeout sessions.”

Nate snorted as Sara let out a loud huff.

“Plus,” said Zari, pulling off another piece of sandwich, “I’m still detoxing from your cabinmate.”

Sara sighed, rolling her eyes at Zari’s dramatics. “Oh, come on, Z,” she said, still picking at her bread. “She’s not  _ that _ bad.”

“See?” said Nate, gesturing a hand at Sara. “I told you, not hating.” 

Sara scowled. “Nate--”

“Sara,” interrupted Zari, slowly. “Today, she told Ray that he was tying a knot wrong.  _ Ray. _ ”

“I did, admittedly, pull one end too tight too soon on my clove-hitch,” chimed in Ray, thoughtfully. 

Zari threw up her arms. “Ray, seriously, is that even a knot? I’m pretty sure you made that knot up.” 

“Zari--” began Amaya, gently resting a hand on Zari’s arm.

“No, but like. It’s not that. It’s  _ everything.  _ She corrects  _ everything. _ I don’t think I did a single thing all day that Ava Sharpe didn’t tell me how to do better. I genuinely do not know how you stand it.”

Sara levelled a look at her. “Zari. Was she right?”

Zari glared back. “That is neither here nor there.”

“So,” said Amaya, raising her eyebrows, “she was right.”

Zari looked from Sara to Amaya and back. “I feel completely ganged up on, and I am  _ not _ here for it,” she grumped, poking at her plate with a fork.

“Although,” she said, slowly, putting the fork down as amusement overtook her expression. “There is one thing that Ava did that I am one-hundred-percent behind.”

Sara pursed her lips. “And what’s that, exactly?”

Zari grinned. “She absolutely  _ hates _ your ex.”

Sara threw her head back, rubbing her hands on her face. “For fucks  _ sake _ , Z,” she groaned.

“Yeah, so sorry to interrupt this amazingly riveting conversation,” came a dry voice from behind Sara’s head, “But apparently you left this in the forest clearing during elective.”

Sara turned to see Nora standing there and holding out a power bank between her fingers, her face impassive, as she looked at them.

Ray stuttered, a little, his cheeks pink-tinged. “Oh!” he said. “Yes, that’s. That’s mine! Heh.” He reached over the table, nearly taking out Amaya’s water cup in the process, and Amaya and Sara had to do a quick sort of recovery dance to keep it from actually spilling. Nora raised an eyebrow as Ray grabbed the power bank. He looked up. “How did you know it was mine?

Nate patted Ray on the back. “Ray, buddy, who else would have a power bank shaped like a double helix?” 

“Wait,” said Sara, suddenly. “Why are  _ you _ returning this and not Ava? She was the one there.”

Nora looked down at Sara. “Because I’m the one who recognized it,” she said, simply.

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” Zari chimed in. “How do you stand it? The snobbishness, the bossiness, the bitchiness, the general stick-up-her-ass-ness that is Ava Sharpe?”

A look of what Sara guessed was genuine surprise crossed Nora’s face, for a second, before slipping back into impassiveness. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She turned and walked back toward her table.

Zari looked toward the rest of the group. “How exactly does one tell if Nora Darhk is joking?”

A chorus of small murmurs and shoulder shrugs were the only response. 

Sara stared after Nora, watching her as she slipped back down into her seat and listened, quietly, to one of Gary’s animated stories, his arms waving around in the air as he imitated some sort of flying creature. Watched Ava as she leaned over, rested her chin on her hand, good-naturedly rolled her eyes. Watched as Nora placed a hand solemnly on Ava’s arm, no doubt saying something dark and long and all-too-cynical, and the Ava’s face as she broke into a smile, then laughter, then covered her eyes with her palm, almost embarrassed. 

Thought back to the last three days, and the ways they interacted with each other--the small, subtle jokes, the teasing, the quiet words, not unlike her and her own friends.

“Z,” she said finally, quietly, breaking the brief silence, “I’m pretty sure she’s not joking.”

* * *

 

“So,” said Sara, flatly, glancing over at Ava. “Missed you in archery today.”

They were enmeshed in their  usual “getting ready” dance, Ava folding clothes, Sara rebraiding her hair so it didn’t tangle while she slept.

Ava sighed. “Yeah,” she said, still folding. “I was recruited for survival skills. For some godforsaken reason, there were 20 children there today.”

“So I heard,” said Sara, evenly, and Ava paused to eye her, frowning. Being honest, Sara wasn’t entirely sure why she was so annoyed with Ava. A week ago, she’d have been thrilled to not have Ava show up, no matter the reason. Now, though.

Now, kids had come to expect her. Now, they had a sort of routine going, finally, after a week of floundering.

Now, in some small, quiet part of her mind, she’d actually kind of cared. Actually kind of been worried. And that knowledge sat in her stomach like a swarm of angry bees; buzzing and anxiety-inducing and uncomfortable.

Sara walked over to Ava, hands on her hips.

“And you didn’t think that, possibly, it would be important to let me, the person you are  _ hosting the elective with, _ know that you wouldn’t be there?”

Ava blanched, just a little, biting her lip. “I...suppose,”  she said, grudgingly, putting down the shirt she was folding, “that might have been prudent.”

Sara continued to stand there, watching Ava, a dozen or responses flitting through her mind; they ranged from “there’s no way I’m forgiving you  _ that _ easily” to “how could you  _ not _ tell me that?” to “honestly, fuck it.” But what she ended up settling on was, “What the hell kind of sixteen-year-old uses the word ‘prudent?’”

Ava ignored the jab and instead turned to stare back at Sara, who fought the urge to shrink back into herself; because Ava’s gaze, pointed and steely and blue-grey, had a way of feeling its way under her skin, as though sensing parts of herself she wasn’t quite aware of.

Finally, Ava’s eyes widened, just a little, and softened beneath the surface. The hint of a smile played on her lips. “Were...were you  _ worried? _ ” she asked, the echo of a laugh slipping in behind her words.

Sara felt color flood to her cheeks, a tickle of annoyance flood her veins. She scowled. “In your dreams, Sharpe.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Maybe my nightmares,” she shot back, though the smile remained.

Sara wrinkled her nose as a comfortable silence fell between them. She stood there, mulling, wondering when any silence with Ava Sharpe had become comfortable.

“So,” she finally said, breaking the silence, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a crooked half-smile. “How  _ was _ survival skills, anyway? Because I got a  _ glowing _ review from Zari.”

Ava huffed, the calm quiet gone, and picked her shirt back up. “I mean,  _ she’s _ the one who almost lead an entire group of campers into a patch of poison ivy and gave the excuse of ‘where I’m originally from, it’s all poison oak.’ I genuinely don’t know how  _ she _ ended up in charge of survival skills class.”

Sara snickered. “Oh, Z,” she sighed. “You’d be amazed, though, how much she usually knows about that stuff.”

Ava snorted. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. At least she knew more than Constantine, who spent the entire time leaning on a tree vaping.”

Sara groaned. “For fuck’s sake, John,” she muttered, as she walked back over toward her bed. “So,” she asked, starting on her second braid. “Not itching to join up the team of survivalists?” 

Ava looked over her shoulder at Sara. “Not getting rid of me  _ that  _ easily, Lance.”

Sara grinned. “I should hope not, Sharpe.”


	14. The World Moves On Another Day Another Drama, Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sara, wait,” called Ava right as the morning activities let out for lunch, campers running off to find their respective groups. Ava made to grab Sara’s arm before drawing back, quickly, as though thinking better of it.
> 
> Sara stopped, crossing her arms, and shot Ava an irritated expression. “What, Ava?” she said, pressure pounding behind her eyes. She’d had the mother of all headaches since leaving Rip’s office, and she was having a hard time concentrating. Ava opened her mouth, then hesitated, looking around them, eyeing the campers and counselors streaming around them toward the mess hall. She cocked her head toward the forest.
> 
> “Come on,” she said. “It’ll be quieter there.”
> 
>  
> 
> Sara thought about saying no; about refusing, and heading back to their cabin instead of lunch, popping a couple of Advil and burying her face into her pillow. But she was too tired to argue, honestly, and ultimately, curiosity won out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting later this evening, chores won out today. But still getting it posted! 
> 
> NGL, I'm super unsure about this chapter, but decided to just go for it.
> 
> This chapter wasn't exactly planned, originally; it just sort of happened, and I went with it, so hopefully it fits in just fine.
> 
> To those asking about Nyssa, it will come up, and be told. But it won't come up for another couple chapters yet. But I promise I'm cooling it on the "what happened last year?" for a little while. It just needed to happen in this chapter. Thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> I'm in the middle of writing both next chapter and an epic Avalance scene, and I'm excited to share with y'all.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I really, really appreciate all the comments, and I'm responding to them tonight <3.

“Sara, what were you thinking? You need to be doing better.”

Sara shifted in the oversized armchair in Rip’s office, a lumpy piece of stuffing digging into her tailbone. It was red, and ugly, and horribly ostentatious, and Sara had to wonder if Rip hadn’t chosen such an ugly piece of furniture in order to make misbehaving campers (and counselors, apparently) as uncomfortable as possible while he berated them. The sight of it still gave her a brief wave of nausea, and anxiety had overtaken her in a completely unexpected way the second she’d crossed the threshold.

She was seated with her palms pressed firmly to her thighs, lips pressed tightly together, listening as Rip rattled off a list of anything and everything she’d done wrong since starting camp this summer.

That’s how it seemed, anyway.

“Really, a fist fight?” he continued. “Yes, Sara, I know about that,” he added, watching Sara’s face carefully. He stared at her, hard, tapping the eraser of his pencil against the hardwood desk in time with her heart.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Tap. Tap. Tap._

“Which two campers was it?” Rip pressed, leaning in just a little.

Sara, who hadn’t said more than two words at this point, barely stopped herself from glaring at him. It wouldn’t do any good, wouldn’t help her case, would only make the situation worse. Instead, she schooled her face into what she hoped resembled “calm impassivity,” a far better option for dealing with Director Hunter. “I’m not going to tell you that,” she said, voice echoing that same impassivity. “They worked it out, it’s over, it won’t happen again.”

Rip sighed, his face reflecting what Sara could only assume was Severe Disappointment.

Not that he looked at her any other way, anymore.

“Sara,” he said, in the same quiet, even tone. “I simply want to know.”

“You’ll kick them out, and I’m not going to be the one responsible for these kids being forced out of camp,” Sara said, her voice rising in tone, just slightly, her palms clenching on her thighs. She closed her eyes, breathing in a deep breath through her nose.

“They worked it out,” she said, more calmly. “It’s over. Everyone is friends. And I’m _not_ going to tell on two of my kids.”

Rip shot her a look that was half empathy, half exasperation.

“Look,” said Rip, putting the pencil down, hard, on the desk. He pressed the tips of his fingers together as he regarded her, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re on thin ice here, Sara. You’re the counselor. _You’re_ the one in charge, in these situations. You have a responsibility. And you might do well to start taking that more seriously.”

 _And not Ava?_ She thought, gripping her thighs with her fingernails, tiny, crescent moon shaped indentations forming on her legs. _Why, exactly, is it me? Why am I the only one here?_ A storm welled inside her stomach, anger bounding through her blood, shame thundering through her chest. She gritted her teeth, the phrase _and you can go fuck yourself_ ready and waiting on her lips.

She swallowed it, and instead, she made herself smile; a grimace of a thing, that was more teeth than lips. “Of course, Director Hunter,” she pressed out, the words low and dangerous and biting.

Rip sighed, again, leaning back in his chair. “Go on,” he said, waving a hand vaguely toward the door. “Breakfast is almost over.”

Sara pushed herself out of the seat, just a little too hard, and the chair scooted back a little on the wood floor. She gained some very small amount of satisfaction knowing it probably left a mark.

“Always a pleasure,” she muttered to herself on the way out, braids flying over her shoulder as she stormed away.

* * *

“Sara, wait,” called Ava right as the morning activities let out for lunch, campers running off to find their respective groups. Ava made to grab Sara’s arm before drawing back, quickly, as though thinking better of it.

Sara stopped, crossing her arms, and shot Ava an irritated expression. “What, Ava?” she said, pressure pounding behind her eyes. She’d had the mother of all headaches since leaving Rip’s office, and she was having a hard time concentrating. Ava opened her mouth, then hesitated, looking around them, eyeing the campers and counselors streaming around them toward the mess hall. She cocked her head toward the forest.

“Come on,” she said. “It’ll be quieter there.”

  
Sara thought about saying no; about refusing, and heading back to their cabin instead of lunch, popping a couple of Advil and burying her face into her pillow. But she was too tired to argue, honestly, and ultimately, curiosity won out.

They made their way to a clearing, the one that usually held some of the messier arts and crafts, and glitter was strewn about the ground, casting a shimmering sheen over the rocks and branches and hard-packed dirt. Sara picked through the pine cones and rocks, leaning against a low-hanging tree branch and crossing her arms. Ava walked over and leaned next to her, fiddling with her lanyard.

They stood that way in silence, for moment, the crackling of tree branches and kids screaming in the distance. Finally, Ava looked over at Sara. “Okay, Sara what’s going on?” she asked, her voice firm and oddly pacifying. It sent Sara a bit on edge; the calmness, the gentleness with which Ava was speaking to her made her skin prickle.

Sara glowered. Her head hurt, her heart hurt, her stomach hurt, and now Ava brought her here to talk about her _feelings?_

“You tell me, Ava,” she snarked. “You’re the one who dragged me out here.”

Ava fixed Sara with a stare that quite clearly said _come on, now._  “Sara,” she said, coolly, crossing her arms to match Sara’s stance. “This morning you yelled at Sophie _twice_ for using her cell phone while you were giving instructions.”

Sara half-growled, “They were important instructions!”

“Sara, Sophie has been using her phone every single day this summer during morning instructions. She’s 11; her cell phone is basically an extension of her hand. _We're_ both on our phones more than she is, some days.”

Sara let her glare linger a moment longer before visibly deflating, leaning more fully against the branch. “Sorry, I’m. Sorry. It’s been…” she let out a long sigh. “It was just a really, really long morning.” She looked up at Ava with hollow eyes, all of the fight gone, now.

Ava looked at Sara sidelong. “Does this have anything to do with why you weren’t at breakfast?”

Surprise shot through Sara, who raised her eyebrows.

Ava huffed. “God, I do pay _some_ attention,” she said, and Sara couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

Sara looked down, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes, briefly. “Something like that,” she murmured. Then, “Rip called me into his office."

She could feel Ava’s gaze on her. “What about?” Ava asked, still soft.

Sara looked up at her, words forming behind her lips. Her first instinct was to brush Ava off, tell her it was none of her business, and never would be, and why should she spill the sordid details of her meeting with Rip? But Ava was looking at her with interest; with confusion, and, possibly, something that resembled genuine concern.

Ava seemed to know, because she shrugged at Sara. “If this is going to be something that’s affecting the campers, I should probably at least have some vague idea.” Sara blew out a breath.

“Right, yeah,” she said, voice quiet. After a moment she added, “The fight.”

Ava frowned, confusion overtaking fully now. “The...fight?” she repeated, slowly.

Sara rubbed her left temple. “The fist fight, from earlier this week.”

Ava frowned. “The fight between the girls?”

Sara nodded. “That’s the one. He called me in to reprimand me about it.”

Ava’s frown slipped into a slight scowl. “You mean, the fight that we were both a part of? The fight that I actively chose not to go to Rip about?”

Sara shrugged. “I can’t think of any other fights, can you?”

Ava stood up, fully. “Why would he reprimand _just you_ about that?”

Sara barked a laugh. “Because he only cares about me being there,” she said, bitterness slipping between the words.

“I’m just as fully responsible as you are for that decision.”

“I know that, Ava.”

“Did you tell him that?”

Sara shot Ava a look, head pounding more fully, now. “Of course not.”

Ava leaned back against the branch again, staring at Sara hard, as though if she looked closely enough she could see the thoughts behind her eyes.

“ _Why?_ ” she asked. “It would have taken some of the pressure off of you.”

Sara turned her head to look at Ava. “Because I don’t narc on my--” she cut herself off, the silence hanging in the air between them, words caught on the tip of her tongue. Ava looked at her, sharply, eyes entirely unreadable, caught on Sara’s.

“Because I don’t narc on people,” Sara finished, lamely, twisting away to look out toward the trees.

Ava didn’t turn away, and the silence between them was loud and long and buzzing, humming around them like whispers.

“Why does Rip have it out for you, exactly?” Ava broke the silence.

Sara laughed, again, unexpectedly even to her. The noise tore out through her chest, sharp-edged and hard. “Why does Rip Hunter have it out for me? Why does Rip Hunter _always_ have it out for me?” She pushed herself up, turning to look at Ava once again.

“The answer is always the same fucking thing.” The words had the same hard edge to them, biting and cold. “It’s always the same, goddamn, fucking mistake.”

“Because of last year,” Ava filled in.

“Yeah,” Sara breathed. She felt drained, raw; far too exposed, for right here, right now. “Because of last year.”

Ava opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She cleared her throat. Opened her mouth, again. “I, um. I don’t know what happened last year,” she began, slowly. “But for what it’s worth...I know what it’s like to be singled out like that. To have your every move scrutinized, to...to  be singled out over all other people. And. And, I’m sorry.” She smiled, thinly, and looked down.

“Anyway,” she added, quickly, before Sara could respond. “We should probably get to lunch. Before it’s over, I mean.” She strode toward the edge of the clearing, quickly, working her way down the paths out of sight.

Sara stood, motionless, questions and worries and ideas fluttering through her head like a million tiny wings. And as she stared after where Ava’s form once was, perched gently against the tree, she wondered, not for the first time, exactly why Ava was here.

* * *

_“What time is it? Summertime, it’s our Vacation!”_

_Messenger_

 

_6:12 PM_

  


_Z: SARA_

 

_Z: WHY DO WE NEVER SEE YOU ANYMORE_

 

_You: Im literally right next to you Z_

 

_Z: but you werent during breakfast or lunch_

 

_Well, Actually: Yeah, where were you, Sara?_

 

_You: Had to talk to Rip_

_You: then Ava_

 

_Pretty-Boy: Oh, what did they want?_

 

_You: Nothing important_

 

_You: But seriously why the fuck are we having this conversation over chat_

 

_You: This is ridiculous_

 

_You: Im at the table with all of you_

 

_You: Im done doing this_

 

_Z: WAIT_

 

_Z: come to mine and amayas cabin after dinner tonight_

 

_You: WHY DIDNT YOU JUST TELL ME THIS IN PERSON ZARI_

 

_Z: idk_

 

_Z: to be a pain_

 

_You: omfg_

 

_You: fine_

 

_Seen 6:19 PM by Pretty-Boy, Z, The Lady or the Tiger, Well, Actually, Fire McFire-Pants_


	15. You Are So Gorgeous It Makes Me So Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ava, you...your hair,” was all she could think to say, gesturing vaguely in Ava’s direction.
> 
> Ava’s face took on an expression of bewilderment, and one of her hands flew up to tug on one of the waves on her neck.
> 
> “I do, in fact, have hair, Sara,” Ava said, dubiously, and Sara rolled her eyes.
> 
> “For fuck’s sake, Ava. You don’t just have hair. You have like...model hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone ready for Legends tonight? Because I'm super ready to get more of Charlie! I'm hoping to hear more about her so I can characterize her better.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter, for some reason I've had the first bit (the bit about Ava's hair) planned out for several chapters now, even though that's ridiculous. Honestly, I know this chapter is ridiculous, but things are about to get real heavy, so here we are.
> 
> I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to fit Kuasa in here, initially, but ultimately decided that having her as one of those niece-who-is-basically-a-sister type of deals would be kind of funny, given the massive time jumps that happen in the show. Hopefully, that came through.
> 
> You are all wonderful, and amazing, and thank you so much for reading and keeping up! I appreciate each and every one of you, and THANK YOU for commenting!

After getting an inordinate amount of crap from Zari about being gone for two whole meals--some of it spoken, most of it still via chat, sent from the seat next to her--Sara finally gave in and agreed to head over to Zari and Amaya’s cabin. It was strangely cool that evening, the summer wind blowing its way in across the lake, leaving a crisp, chilly fog in its wake.

So when Sara had told her friends where she was headed she had honestly intended to stop in to her cabin quickly, grab her sweatshirt, and head right over.

Except when Sara hip-checked the door open and looked up from her phone (she’d been typing furiously to the group chat about one of Nate and Ray’s especially volatile campers), she stopped short, fingers still mid-message, and stared, openly.

Ava lifted her head from her own phone at the noise of Sara coming in. She looked at Sara, expectantly, and tilted her head a little to the side.

“...yes?” she asked, drawing out the word, impatience sitting on its surface.

Sara swallowed. She knew she was staring, it was just...well, it was unexpected.

Because there sat Ava, in a SCA track sweatshirt (Sara had seen the sweatshirt before, though what SCA stood for, Sara had no clue) and black leggings, her hair, for the first time Sara could remember,  _ not  _ in a bun at the back of her head. Instead, gentle, dirty blonde waves fell lightly over Ava’s shoulders, just a little bit damp, soft strands framing her face. Sara was positive that no one had any right whatsoever to have hair that nice. The air smelled vaguely of rosewater, Ava’s shampoo, and through her surprise Sara realized she must have caught Ava just out of the shower. 

“Ava, you...your hair,” was all she could think to say, gesturing vaguely in Ava’s direction.

Ava’s face took on an expression of bewilderment, and one of her hands flew up to tug on one of the waves on her neck.

“I do, in fact, have hair, Sara,” Ava said, dubiously, and Sara rolled her eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, Ava. You don’t just have hair. You have like... _ model  _ hair.”

Ava blinked at her, uncertainty slipping into her gaze. “Uh. Thanks? I think?”

Sara took a step closer, tugging on the end of her own braid. “Seriously, why the  _ hell  _ do you keep it up?”

Ava gave her a patented Ava Sharpe  _ look _ . 

“Uh, because it’s practical? Because it keeps it out of my face? Because it’s like 90 degrees outside most of the time, and I have a lot of it?”

Sara shook her head, walking toward her dresser. “If I had hair like that, there is literally nothing on earth that could make me keep it up.”

Ava snorted. “Dramatic, much?” She shifted, tucking a piece of hair self-consciously behind one ear.

“Besides,” she added, crossing her legs and leaning forward to look at Sara. “It looks more put together.”

Now it was Sara’s turn to snort. “Please, Ava. You couldn’t look not put together if you tried.”

“Again with the dramatics,” said Ava, looking away and huffing.  

“Ava,” said Sara, picking up her sweatshirt and tugging it on over her shoulders. “The first time I met you, you were wearing a cardigan, a pencil skirt, and ankle boots. If that’s not put together as fuck, I don’t know what is.”

Ava looked back up at her, raising an eyebrow, grinning, slightly. “I recall,” she said. “And you were wearing an oversized sweatshirt--one that I have since discovered is your favorite to wear around the cabin--and something that I am generously referring to as a ponytail.”

Sara let out a soft laugh, warmth blooming in her chest. 

“Well, anyway,” Sara said, turning to leave the cabin, “You should wear it down more often. It suits you.”

* * *

 

“GUYS,” Sara stage-whispered, fumbling her way through the door to Zari and Amaya’s room. “Ava has  _ hair. _ ”

They both stared at her, Amaya’s expression one of vague concern, Zari’s sheer confusion.

“Yeah,” said Zari, slowly, from where she was laying down backwards on the bed, popping handfulls of M&M’s into her mouth. “That’s  _ super great, _ Cap. Only, I kind of fail to see why this is  _ news? _ ”

“Did…” Amaya added, attempting to keep her voice level. “Did you think that maybe it was a wig, or…?” she trailed off, clearly uncertain

Sara blew a stray piece of hair out of her face and let out a laugh. “No, guys. I mean that she has  _ hair. _ Like super pretty, super wavy, super soft model hair. And she keeps it  _ in a bun. _ ”

Zari pushed herself upright and sighed. “Why is it always the people who don’t want it who get it? Also,” she added, grabbing another handful of M&M’s, “Why do you know how  _ soft  _ it is?”

A prickling started back up in Sara’s chest. “Fuck off, Zari,” she said, picking up M&M’s and tossing them, one by one, at Zari’s face.

“OKAY,” said Amaya, grabbing the bag. “That’s enough for you.”

“She started it,” Zari said, pointing immediately to Sara, who threw another M&M at her. Amaya sighed. “Honestly,” she muttered, though she was smiling. 

They fell into a comfortable sort of silence, and Sara found herself studying Zari’s face.

There was a worry, there, a deep-set darkness under her eyes that, had Sara not been looking for it, she wouldn’t have noticed. But over the last couple of days, though Zari had kept up her usual banter, her teasing, Sara couldn’t help but notice that her smiles didn’t always meet her eyes.

“So,” Sara began, tucking her knees under her chin. “What’s going on, Z?”

Surprise overtook Zari’s face for about two seconds before she let out a resigned sigh. “Why do I even bother trying to keep secrets around here?” she muttered, though there was a quiet sort of sadness about the words, something long and deep and searching.

“Beats me,” murmured Sara, smiling slightly. She reached out to rest a hand on Zari’s arm, hoping it would ground her, a little, and Zari sighed again.

“It’s Behrad,” she said, finally, and Sara and Amaya exchanged glances.

Zari’s little brother, Behrad, had been a sickly child. He’d gotten leukemia as a toddler, and though he’d been in remission for three years, now, this was his very first year at summer camp. The way Zari had described it, he’d begged, and pleaded, and goaded, and whined until her parents finally gave in and sent him with her to summer camp. 

“You know how he’s in the 8-year-olds cabin?” Zari said, now, laying back down so her head was in Amaya’s lap.

“Yep,” said Sara, as Amaya nodded.

“Well,” said Zari, playing absently with a piece of her hair. “He’s having kind of a difficult time, I guess. He told me that the kids are all in friend groups, already, and all know each other from the last couple of years. Plus, since he spent all his time being homeschooled and going to the hospital school…” Zari shrugged, a little helplessly, and Amaya ran a soothing hand over Zari’s hair. She signed.  “He just doesn’t always know how to act around other kids. I mean, I’m so much older than he is. A full eight years. That’s not exactly child playdate material.”

“Are the other kids giving him a hard time?” asked Sara, frowning, though she was pretty sure that Zari wouldn’t hesitate to barge right in and threatened the kids herself if they were bullying Behrad, or anything along those lines.

Zari shook her head as best she could while still laying down. Pieces of hair fell out of her ponytail and into her face. “I know it’s kind of harder for you guys to get, since you grew up at camp together, but…” Zari trailed off. “But it can be kind of intimidating, pushing your way into a group that’s already formed.” 

Sara’s mind shot to Ava, for a moment, and she swallowed, hard, guilt gnawing its way into her stomach. Then again, Ava hadn’t exactly come in wanting to be all “buddy buddy” herself, so it’s not like it was  _ all  _ on Sara. Plus, they seemed to have worked out some kind of...of  _ something, _ of peace, of not-quite-friendship, or whatever it was they were. She was brought back, sharply, to the conversation, by Zari jabbing her repeatedly in the leg.

“Literally why is that your only method of getting my attention, Z?” she said, wrinkling her nose. 

“Because I’m talking about you and you’re not paying attention. It’s effective. Besides, it’s companionable, remember?”

Sara snorted. “Companionable my ass.”

“Sara, your ass is  _ plenty _ companionable. Just ask Ollie, or Constantine, or--”

“Okay,  _ okay, _ ” Sara said, covering her face with her hands. “You make your point.” She removed her hands, looking at Zari more softly, now, as her face fell back into a mask of worry.

“Z, I’m sure it will be okay. The kids will get to know him better, they really will.”

“Yeah,” said Zari, sighing softly as Amaya twirled curls into her hair. “I hope so.” She glanced up at Amaya. “Better than you, I guess,” she said, a small smile forming on her face. “At least everyone doesn’t think my niece is my sister.”

Amaya groaned. “Honestly, I love her, but Kuasa is driving me insane. And she won’t stop calling me ‘auntie’ just to be a pain. All the 12-year-old girls in her cabin call me that, now, and it’s terrible.”

Zari grinned fully, now. “Guess you’d better have a chat with your brother, then, for being so much older than you and choosing to have a child four years after his little sister was born.” 

“Anyway, it’s bad,” said Amaya, sighing softly. “And now, with this other girl who apparently looks  _ just like me,  _ though I don’t really see it--”

“No, Amaya,” Zari interrupted. “She literally looks just like you. Like you look more related than you and Kuasa.”

Amaya scowled. 

“You know,” Sara interrupted, thoughtfully. “It’s weird, I’ve never had Kuasa’s cabin. I tend to get the older girls, sort of, but I’ve been following the same group of kids ever since I became a counselor.”

Zari sat up to look at Sara more fully. “Wait, you don’t know?”

Sara stared. “Know...what?”

Zari tilted her head to the side, laughing. “Sophie has requested you as a counselor every single summer since your first helped her start all of her lanyards when you were both campers.” 

Sara’s mouth dropped open, a little, and a small shot of affection for her group of campers settled in her chest. “Oh,” she said, quietly.

Zari grinned, shrugging. “Uh, yeah. It was honestly precious--I overheard her last year, when I was waiting to talk to Director Hunter. ‘I want Sara to be my counselor.’ No room for argument, just demanding it. Rip looked like he was going to lose it, honestly. ‘We’ll see,’ was all he said, in his Rip way.”

A jolt of unease shot through Sara’s stomach as she thought about exactly what Rip would have thought of that request, at the end of last summer. She looked away.

“Anyway,” said Zari, quickly, clearly sensing Sara’s shift in tone. “She’s a good kid.”

Sara looked up, attempting to press the unease out of her throat. She smiled, thinly. “Too bad she’s not my sister,” she said, a tone of bitterness slipping in. “Dad texted just yesterday to tell me what an  _ amazing _ job Laurel is doing at her internship, and how super prepared she is for college.” Sara rolled her eyes. “He literally texted me  _ just  _ for that purpose. I don’t even know why he bothered--Laurel does more than enough rubbing things in on her own.”

Amaya shot Sara a sympathetic look, and Zari scoffed.

“Family is a lot,” she said, snatching back the bag of M&M’s from Amaya’s other side.

“Yeah,” said, Sara, softly. “Guess it’s a good thing we get to choose our family, too.” She glanced up at them. 

“God, you’re a sap,” said Zari, smacking Sara lightly on the shoulder, and Amaya tsked at her. But the worry fell away, just a little, around Zari’s eyes.


	16. Don't Blame Me, Love Made Me Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava hesitated, sucking in a breath. “I, um,” she began, hesitated. Blew the air out of her lungs in one big whoosh. “I heard Lia and Kennedy talking.”
> 
> Sara’s face twisted in confusion. “Um. Good, I guess? Like I’m glad they’re friends?”
> 
> Ava let out another sigh, annoyance and concern overtaking the calm. “Sara, I’m serious.”
> 
> Sara crossed her arms, frustration creeping in. “So am I,” she said, the edge of irritation slipping into her voice. “I don’t understand why that’s a big fucking deal.”
> 
> “It was about you, Sara,” she said, still quiet, the odd flatness of her expression leaking into her tone.
> 
> Sara stared at Ava for a minute longer, confusion still written on her face, flipping through every possible reason that Ava would look this upset at this moment for this reason and--
> 
> Oh. Oh, fuck. Sara’s eyes widened, panic slipping into her chest, a horrid, sinking sensation sending her heart into an odd arrhythmia. Sara knew that Ava could tell the minute she figured it out, because Ava didn’t wait for a response before nodding.
> 
> “Yeah,” Ava breathed. “It’s about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I didn't post yesterday partially because I was running a program at my library that involved shooting marshmallows at paper turkeys. But also partially because I really, really wanted to try to do this chapter justice.
> 
> I won't go into this chapter too much here, except to say that yes, I know Sara is being hard on herself. But that fits her character, and there's just a lot of layers to unpack with this one.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it, and have good holidays, and find yourself in a place that is safe for you, with people who are safe for you <3\. 
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr and, uh, maybe give me a shout out letting me know what you thought of this chapter? Because I was QUITE nervous to post it.
> 
> iliveinfantasylife on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you all!

It had started out mostly normal, really; the hectic of the day hitting a lull, Ava out visiting Nora, due back any minute; and Sara, herself, working on some much needed tidying of her clothes.

But then the door opened, and Ava stood, shifting, in the doorway, and when Sara looked up to say hello, Ava’s face gave her pause.

“Hey,” said Ava, her voice quiet, her movements even quieter, as though she was afraid Sara would bolt any second. Her face was oddly calm, expressionless and even. Sara froze.

“Ava,” she said, slowly. “What’s up?”

Ava hesitated, sucking in a breath. “I, um,” she began, hesitated. Blew the air out of her lungs in one big _whoosh._ “I heard Lia and Kennedy talking.”

Sara’s face twisted in confusion. “Um. Good, I guess? Like I’m glad they’re friends?”

Ava let out another sigh, annoyance and concern overtaking the calm. “Sara, I’m serious.”

Sara crossed her arms, frustration creeping in. “So am I,” she said, the edge of irritation slipping into her voice. “I don’t understand why that’s a big fucking deal.”

Ava hesitated, again, and Sara felt the anger flare up, the anger that she hadn’t felt in over a week, and she wanted to walk over and shake Ava. “It was about you, Sara,” she said, still quiet, the odd flatness of her expression leaking into her tone.

Sara stared at Ava for a minute longer, confusion still written on her face, flipping through every possible reason that Ava would look _this_ upset at _this_ moment for _this_ reason and--

 _Oh. Oh, fuck._ Sara’s eyes widened, panic slipping into her chest, a horrid, sinking sensation sending her heart into an odd arrhythmia. Sara knew that Ava could tell the minute she figured it out, because Ava didn’t wait for a response before nodding.

“Yeah,” Ava breathed. “It’s about that.” She stood, silent, for a moment. “I laid into them, of course, but..” she cleared her throat. If Sara hadn’t been so freaked out, so all-consumed by the panic clawing its way through her chest and up her throat, she would have been amused by seeing Ava so speechless. As it was, however, it was all she could do to keep from crying.

Ava continued. “It was a far more vague version, of course, than the one that’s going around the counselors.”

Sara felt something in her stretch, and stretch, and snap; something thin and fragile, something that had been pulled taut since the beginning of summer. “And what exactly _is_ the version that’s going around the counselors, Ava?” she snapped, voice hard, and rough, catching just slightly on the words.

Ava’s eyes widened in surprise, then confusion. “You mean, you don’t know?”

Sara fixed her eyes onto Ava’s, anxiety building a well of pressure in her chest. “I make it a point not to.”

Ava considered this for a moment, then nodded. After a pause, she hesitantly made her way over to Sara’s bed.

“Well?” asked Sara, roughly, shifting to make room for Ava.

Ava paused. “They’re saying that— that you and Nyssa got caught... you know. That...that a camper caught you, right in the middle of it all, saw you, or maybe Rip, himself--it kind of varies, based on who’s doing the telling.”

Sara’s stomach rolled, the pressure growing stronger, louder, rushing in her ears. “ _What?_ ”

Ava shrugged, almost helplessly. “That’s what they’re saying. Among other things. Among...names, and…” she shrugged, again, looking uncomfortable. “They’re saying you’re the reason she’s gone. That you and your... _indiscretions_ are known around camp.”

Sara groaned, cupping her hands in front of her face. “ _Fuck,”_ she muttered, and removed her hands, fixing her eyes on Ava’s. “That’s--that’s NOT what happened, oh, my god.”

Because, yeah. Because of course, they’d think that. Because rumors blow up and turn into the absolute worst versions of themselves, and turn the people they’re about into the worst versions of themselves, too.

“Look,” said Ava, voice hushed and low and entirely too calm. “I know that we’re not friends. I know that we’re not even...that I’m probably one of the last people you’d want to tell this information to, but.” She stopped, chewed her lip, looking away, then back at Sara again. “But if this is a thing that’s going to go around our cabin…” she trailed off.

Sara didn’t say anything for a long moment. She didn’t want to talk about it. She absolutely did _not_ want to talk about it. And she did not want to talk about it to Ava. But even more than that, she didn’t want anyone, especially, for some reason, Ava, to think that she had been actually been caught, that she was actually the kind of person who would, _anywhere_ that her kids might find her.

Sara made a noise that was half-groan, half-sigh, and gritted her teeth. “Okay, look,” she began. “For as many stories as I’m sure you’ve heard about me and Constantine—“   
  
Ava put up a hand. “I’m sorry. What?”   
  
Sara raised her eyebrows. “Ava, really _not_ the point right now.”   
  
Ava ran a hand through her hair to meet her messy bun. “Yeah, sorry, I’m sorry. Go on.”   
  
Sara grimaced. “So, yeah, for as much as you apparently have _not_ heard about me and Constantine, or Ollie, or Leo, or whoever else…”

Ava tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly how many people _have_ you been involved with?”

Sara smirked a little, despite herself. "Ava Sharpe, are you asking for my number?”

Ava pressed herself back, just a little further away, and scowled. “Absolutely not.”

They sat that way for a moment, Ava with her arms crossed, Sara grinning, just a little, perched on the edge of Sara’s bed. All was still, and calm, and quiet, and--

And then something clattered loudly in the front room, the sound of girls giggling following closely behind, and the stillness shattered.

Because for one brief, shining moment, Sara had forgotten the reason for Ava’s being there. The meaning behind this conversation,

Ava seemed to sense it, too, because she looked away, down at her lap, at the wall, at the floor. “You were saying?” she said, and it sounded far too loud in the buzzing air.

Sara drew in another long breath, choking, slightly, on the air. “I was saying that. That for as much as my... _reputation_ precedes me, Nyssa was the first person I ever really...had feelings for, I guess. And we obviously were not as subtle as we needed to be, but...but we never, _would_ never do anything like that where campers could see us, or.” She let out a frustrated sigh. God, why was she even _talking_ about this? Her stomach still roiled, the idea of her business, _this_ business spreading to the campers, now…

“Sara,” Ava began in the same quiet, hushed tone, but Sara shook her head. Swallowed, hard, forced down the feeling-like-bile clawing its way up her throat. Took yet another deep, grounding breath.

“Nyssa...Nyssa Al Ghul had been going to summer camp as long as I had. As long as Ray and Nate and Amaya and Mick. We all went to camp, together. She was...she _is,_ still, the daughter of Ra’s Al Ghul, the state senator. Though I guess, I guess you probably knew that. It’s not like it’s not obvious.” Sara pulled at a loose thread on her sweatshirt, yanking it out, wrapping and unwrapping it around her finger. She drew in a breath. “The Al Ghul’s were always pretty high-ranking, always in politics, in some way. Though when Nyssa started here, they weren’t as high up as all that. I’m guessing that’s how she ended up here in the first place--something about a “regular kid experience,” she told me, something like that. Apparently she kind of strong-armed her dad into letting her stay, once he became a senator. Because she’d been going here ‘literally forever.’” Sara pressed out a small, light laugh, and it felt like thorns pricking her heart.

“You know,” she said, quietly, not looking at Ava. “It’s funny, we weren’t even particularly close, as kids. Like, she was here, you know. Like they were all here. But we didn’t hang out, or even talk, much. We just…” Sara shrugged, swallowed, still looking down. “Kind of like Nora, I guess. We were in the same cabins, mostly, but. We weren’t _friends._ ” Sara’s voice caught on the word, cracking, sending a sharp twinge throughout her chest; forming fissures, settling into a dull, deep ache.

Sara felt Ava shift, just very slightly, next to her on the bed. She stayed completely quiet, utterly still, then, waiting, and Sara found that she was grateful for it. Sara continued.

“It was always that way. We paired off how you’d expect, really--and it was always the same group of us in a cabin. Me, Amaya, Nora, Nyssa, and another girl, Kendra, who didn’t stick around to be a counselor after we graduated camper-dom. Other girls came and went, too--here for a summer, gone the next. Amaya and I always stuck together, usually with Kendra, too, until she was gone; Nora always kept to herself; and Nyssa...Nyssa was just Nyssa, hanging out with the people she hung out with, talking to the people she talked to. And it wasn’t that I didn’t like her, or she didn’t like me--it was that, other than being in a cabin together, our paths just. Didn’t really cross, much. She was just sort of there.”

Sara glanced up at Ava, who was watching her with an entirely unreadable expression on her face. She looked away again.

“We only really got close two years ago, I guess. She was...she was, uh. My co-counselor. Of course, as you know.” She was rambling, and she knew it, but fuck, she’d never told this story before. Not to anyone.

She hadn’t had to. They’d just known.

“Co-counselor?” Ava prodded, gently, and Sara blew out a quick breath.

“Right. So, we were assigned to a cabin together. Which I remember being kind of salty about, to be honest with you, because Amaya and I weren’t paired together.” She smiled, just a little, chest constricting slightly, and she glanced up to see Ava giving her a knowing look. “Yeah,” Sara huffed out, “I know. Shocking. But we kind of, well. We’d at least _known_ each other.”

Smile. Shrug. Rinse, repeat, in that order.

“Amaya and I always assumed we’d be counselors together. That is, until Rip called Amaya to his office, one day, and asked if she’d be willing to be the co-counselor of this new girl who was coming in.”

“Zari?” Ava supplied, and Sara nodded.

“Yeah, it was Zari. She was always a _model_ camper, of course, and Rip told her that this new girl--Zari--could use someone like Amaya to ‘show her the ropes’ and ‘be a good influence.’ When Amaya mentioned it to me, I just...I mean, I wanted her to be able to do what she wanted. So I told them…” Sara grimaced, a little, color tinging her cheeks. “I told them it was fine, so long as I didn’t get Nora Darhk.” She glanced over at Ava, a little apologetically. “We really didn’t have much in common, or so I thought at the time. And really...really, it wouldn’t have worked out, so well, us as co-counselors.”

Ava’s lips twitched into a smile. “I would imagine not.”

Sara’s lips tried to follow suit, but fell short halfway there, so she kept talking. “Anyway, it wasn’t...of course, it wasn’t Nora Darhk that I got. It was Nyssa.”

Nyssa, who she hadn’t known that well. Nyssa, who she’d had “no real feelings about,” when this whole thing had started.

“We got along fine. We didn’t--we didn’t really disagree, on much, but we also didn’t talk, much either.”

Sara grew quiet again, mulling over her words. Unsure how to say the next part. Unsure how to put this story, all the meaning behind it, the history, into something as simple as words.

“It wasn’t until...until I found her on the archery range, one day. About two weeks into the summer. I’d known she did archery; known she was one of those kids that did the archery elective, and all that. But I hadn’t known _how_ she did archery. Like she was--like she was physically part of the bow, like it was Nyssa, herself, that forced the arrows through the air.” She was waxing very poetic, and she knew that, too, but she couldn’t seem to _stop,_ couldn’t seem to quite stem the flow of words, now that they’d begun.

“When I found her on the archery range, I was instantly. Fascinated, I guess. I hadn’t given archery much thought, before then, but watching her kind of changed that. I remember, um. I remember asking her how she got so good. And she laughed, and told me that she’d been doing archery actually forever, that she’d been taking lessons since she was five. She asked--she asked if I wanted, if I wanted to learn, to.” Sara paused, closed her eyes.

_“Do you want me to show you?”_

_“Like...lessons?”_

_A laugh, light and airy and just a little throaty. “Yes, Sara, ‘like’ lessons.”_

Sara’s chest clenched, hard, and she opened her eyes to see Ava, waiting, watching.

“She offered to give me archery lessons,” Sara continued, flatly. “I said yes, even though we hadn’t really talked that much, up until that point. We just. Didn’t know each other that well, I guess, yet.” Sara shrugged.

“Anyway, that first summer, we. Became friends. Close friends, fast friends, after that initial little bit.” She glanced up at Ava. “Not like _that,_ ” she added, and Ava held up her hands.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yeah, but you _were_ thinking it, weren’t you?”

Ava shrugged, a little, but stayed silent. Sara looked back down, smiling, just slightly.

“Not like that. Not yet. Not until later.”

 _It had been so, so fast,_ she didn’t say. _Faster than you’d ever expect_ . _It had been like we were meant to be friends, our whole lives, and just hadn’t quite figured out how yet._ But she didn’t say any of it. Because it felt like too much, too personal; too hard to put those exact feelings into the meanings hiding behind the words.

“Yeah. So. We spent that first summer becoming friends, and then close friends, and then closer friends, and. And finally, that next summer...well, I guess things…progressed…like they do.” she trailed off, licking her lips, chest pulling tighter and tighter around her ribs, pressing into her heart.

Ava watched Sara for a moment, frowning. “And...and you already knew you liked girls? By that point?”

Sara stared. “What?”

“I just mean,” said Ava, slowly, “you went from acquaintances to archery lessons to...not straight?”

“I mean, no,” Sara said, clearing her throat, chewing on her lip. “People weren’t exactly lining up at my door, saying, ‘Sara Lance, have you considered that you might be bisexual?’” Ava laughed, very lightly, and Sara almost smiled. “But she… _she_ knew she liked girls, I guess. I mean, she went to an all-girls private school, right?”

Ava snorted, and Sara let out a bark of a laugh; not quite the real thing, but close enough for now. “Yeah, I know. And Nyssa is-- _was_ \--probably still is?” she hesitated, heart jolting. “The sort of person who just, goes for it. She...she, um. She found me in our room, one day, and...”

_And told me, “You’re adorable when you’re focused.” And tucked my hair behind my ears, and breathed into my lips, and told me, “I think you want this, too.”_

_And I did._

_And she kissed me._

_And it was like the sun was exploding in my chest, behind my eyes, into my bones._

“...and helped me realize how very _not straight_ I was.” Sara finished. “I, well. Hadn’t thought about it, I guess. I hadn’t...been into girls, that I’d realized, per se. I mean, I was into _her,_ and the rest kind of came later.”

_In the form of Lindsey and Anne and Gwen and…_

“Anyway. Yeah, so. We, were together. Yes. We--dated, I guess. Were together for the summer. It was, fast, in a way. Like things progressed quickly.” Sara flushed.

_Lips on lips on hands on necks on…_

“And I lo--” Sara swallowed the word “love,” quickly. “We were very, _very_ into each other. And it, uh. It was. Good.” Her words came out joltingly, haltingly, catching halfway up her throat each time.

“Except then. Then we _were_ caught. We were caught, by. It _was_ by a camper, but it wasn’t like that, like people are saying it was. We were kissing, and it was stupid, it was so _fucking_ stupid, and…” she felt the corners of her eyes begin to sting, the burning begin in her throat, and she tried to force it down, quickly.

“I’ve played that moment over and over again in my head, you know,” she said to Ava, quietly.

“If we’d just been more careful. If we hadn’t been living together, technically, in a cabin. If we’d been kissing like all the other stupid teenagers kiss when they sneak out at night to meet up, and not like…” _Not like lovers._

“If you hadn’t both been girls,” came Ava’s voice, bitterly, and Sara looked up, surprised.

“Yeah,” Sara huffed, “Yeah. That, exactly.”

She met Ava’s eyes, and saw something hard, almost like anger, but not quite. Like sadness. Like heartache. She looked away, again.

“Anyway. When Rip found out, he was livid. He hauled us both into his office, and in true Rip fashion, he told us he had ‘a duty to call our parents.’” Sara gritted her teeth, anger coursing quickly, ferociously, through her veins.

“Nyssa _begged_ him not to call. That her dad would be. Would be _livid,_ would be furious, would never let her come back. But, of course, he ‘had a duty to call our parents.’ And so. So he did. And just like Nyssa thought, Ra’s was. Livid. And he.”

Sara choked, a little, now, throat tight, tight, tight, chest burning. “He took her. With him. Sent someone to pick her up from camp, one week before it ended. Took her with him. And left me here.” Her voice cracked, her chest cracked, everything cracked, the dam holding her together. And suddenly, there were tears splattering drops onto her lap.

“And of course,” Sara said, a little breathless, anger and aching and heartache, _so much heartache,_ pressing out, through the words, all at once. “ _Of course,_ people found out what happened. And talked. And talked. And. And hated me.”

Sara dug her nails into her thighs, hard. “Hated me, because I got her kicked out. Hated me, because I already had a reputation, right? Already had a reputation and hooked up with Nyssa who of course everyone _loved_ and now. She was gone.”

A hand, the lightest of touches, brushed its way up Sara’s arm, grounding her, just a little. Sara shuddered, snapped her head up to meet Ava’s eyes, who nodded, hand still warm against Sara’s skin. Sara drew in another deep, shuddering breath.

“The worst part, I think,” she said, “Was that the kids loved her. They adored her, thought of her like an older sister, just really. Really loved having her around. And it was ruined, for them.”

A breath. A touch. Tears lazily making their way down her cheeks.

“And my sister, of course, was here. My perfect _fucking_ sister, with her perfect fucking cabin of 12-year-olds, was here to rub it in exactly the same way she always does. Every single time I set up some nice self-sabotage.”

She focused her gaze on the floor. On her hands. On the spots forming damp patches on her lap. Anywhere but Ava. Back up at Ava.

“Yeah, so. There you go. That’s my sad, sordid love story. That’s why they’re all talking about Sara Lance, the girl who hooks up with everyone, who hooked up with another _girl,_ a girl that everyone loved. And ruined things.”

Ava looked at Sara, eyes focused, piercing, the same, ever-consuming blue grey that always, always seemed to slip straight under her skin.

“Do you remember what I told you, at the beginning of the summer?” Sara tilted her head at Ava. “Which part, exactly? Because I seem to recall you telling me a _lot_ of things, most of which I artfully ignored.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Sara, I’m trying, here. No. I mean, I mean how I’m kind of here to get away from my family?”   
Sara nodded, not quite sure where this was going, but she didn’t want to say anything to make Ava stop talking. Not when they’d gotten to this point, not now.

Ava smiled, wanly. “You probably don’t recognize my mother’s name, but I’m the daughter--well, one of two daughters--of the deputy mayor.”

Sara stared at Ava. “Jesus christ,” she murmured. “What the fuck is with me and being paired with political children?”

Ava’s eyes flashed with something dark and sparking. “I am _no one’s_ poster child,” she hissed, voice low and unexpectedly venomous. Sara pulled back, startled.

“I’m...sorry, I guess,” she said, slowly.

Ava hissed a breath. “No, I’m. Sorry,” she said, stilted, forcing out every word. “It’s not you, it’s. Well, her entire campaign is based on Family Values. So you can imagine how _wonderfully_ they took to having a gay daughter.” Ava let out a harsh laugh, and Sara could sense the discomfort in it, something hard, and fresh, and still far, far too new, too raw.

She turned her gaze back to Sara’s, eyes blazing, now, shining with something Sara couldn’t quite place. “They found out and, well. I go to Star City Prep, you see. All cliques and smiles and perfect shining teeth of girls with their perfect, shining, boyfriends. And straight, you see, always straight.” She frowned a little. “I just...I couldn’t stand another summer, there, not with my perfect, straight, shining example of a sister--”

“That, at least, I get,” Sara interrupted, and Ava smiled, a little.

“Not with her, not at the same prep camps with the same sister and all the girls who know me and hate me for who I am; or, worse yet, _don’t_ hate me because they don’t know who I am. Because I’m not allowed to--” she cut herself off, swallowing. “Because I’m not supposed to be who I am. Not with my parents, who spend so much time pretending, thinking that they can. That they can change me, I guess.”

Ava shrugged. “The point is, Sara, that we’ve all got our shit. The stuff we don’t want people to see, or hear, what we want to hide. That I...I don’t _get it,_ not exactly, but. I do understand.” Her face twisted into a wry smile. “You, and me, and our reputations,” she teased, lightly.

Sara laughed, the sound a little watery, catching in her throat. “Yeah, I guess we do.” Without thinking, she laid her head down on Ava’s shoulder. She felt Ava tense, for just a moment, and her stomach dropped, slightly. Sara was about to start apologizing, about to pull herself away, when she felt Ava relax, a set of long fingers combing gently through her hair.

“And, Sara?” breathed Ava’s voice next to her ear, quietly, so quietly that Sara almost didn’t hear her. “That’s okay.”


	17. All My Flowers Grew Back As Thorns, Windows Boarded Up After The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please, Lance. I don’t like you enough to baby you.” But her mouth was twisted into a crooked half-smile, the beginnings of a smirk on her lips, a laugh on the tip of her tongue.
> 
> Unlike before, this somehow felt painfully, confoundingly right to Sara. Like that smile belonged on Ava’s lips, gentle and dancing. Like three weeks ago she hadn’t been considering pushing Ava off the dock just to watch her, for once, lose that maddeningly perfect sense of composure. Like there might, at some point, be room for more than open antipathy in their relationship.
> 
> But that was not a thought that Sara had any room for right now, so she pushed it down, down, down, into the little box in the back of her mind where she kept all of the thoughts she wasn’t allowed to think and the feelings she wasn’t allowed to feel.
> 
> Instead, she gave Ava her best, most rogueish grin, and said, “That goes both ways, Sharpe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. No post yesterday because Thanksgiving is WAY too much work. I hope you all who celebrate it had a good one.
> 
> I want to take a moment to thank everyone for reading and commenting and contacting me about the last chapter. Is was super thoughtful of you, and honestly meant a LOT to me. It also helps me know what is and isn't working in this fic, and I just got overwhelmingly positive (if pained) commentary, and I love you all. So thank you, so much. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this kind of filler chapter. Something lighter after the last one (before more drama sets in). 
> 
> Happy reading! <3
> 
> Tumblr: iliveinfantasylife

To Sara’s immense surprise, Ava gave no indication in the following days that Sara had told her anything. That something had changed between them on some fundamental level. Didn’t discuss the incident with her, at all, and didn’t bring up anything that had transpired that afternoon.

Instead, Sara saw it in the little things.

The way Ava started to chastise the campers more, instantly and insistently, when she caught them gossiping about someone behind their backs.

The texts Sara was getting, more frequently, letting her know where Ava was, when things changed, why she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. A funny quote from Gary.

Quiet words, soft laughter; a distinct lack of shit-giving about the way Sara skirted around the rules, sometimes, or gave the girls “just one more moment of free time” before bed.

And it felt wrong, almost. Like something  _ had  _ shifted between them, but not in the way Sara expected, not exactly; and it was making her feel antsy, and anxious, and frustratingly on-edge.

And while she honestly didn’t hate the lack of arguing, of pointed jabs disguised as words and sharp, singular phrases; even more than that, Sara hated the idea that Ava might actually have started being nice out of something as painfully unfair as pity. That the niceties, the quiet words, the--

_ the head on Ava’s shoulder, fingers combing through her hair-- _

Were all false; were forced, the  _ required  _ option, as Ava saw fit, and were instead painfully unreal.

And that was far, far worse.

So one morning, right after Ava called yet another kid out on talking about a friend behind their back, Sara grabbed Ava’s arm, lightly, to keep her from leaving. Ava turned to her, frowning, confusion tinting the edges of her eyes.

“You don’t have to baby me, you know,” Sara said, frustration leaking into her voice.

Ava’s eyes widened, for just a second, and Sara felt her chest sinking. She’d hoped, maybe, that--

“I know that,” Ava said, quietly.

Sara stared at her, hard, as though attempting to see straight through Ava’s eyes, into her mind, beneath her skin. Like Ava always managed to, somehow. “Come on, Ava,” she said. “You’ve been...it’s been.” she hesitated, watching Ava’s expression, “Different.”

Ava’s face softened, a little, though her frown deepened. “Sara. I got more information on a situation and adjusted my thoughts on the matter, and my behaviors, accordingly. That does  _ not  _ mean I’m babying you. Something tells me you wouldn’t take too kindly to that action, anyway. Besides,” she added, sighing, “Nothing like that ever actually helps anyone.”

Sara said nothing for a moment, watching Ava’s unreadable eyes scan her own. 

“I--thought--” Sara began, roughly, but Ava cut her off.

“Please, Lance. I don’t  _ like  _ you enough to baby you.” But her mouth was twisted into a crooked half-smile, the beginnings of a smirk on her lips, a laugh on the tip of her tongue.

Unlike before, this somehow felt painfully, confoundingly  _ right  _ to Sara. Like that smile belonged on Ava’s lips, gentle and dancing. Like three weeks ago she hadn’t been considering pushing Ava off the dock just to watch her, for once, lose that maddeningly perfect sense of composure. Like there might, at some point, be room for more than open antipathy in their relationship.

But that was not a thought that Sara had any room for right now, so she pushed it down, down, down, into the little box in the back of her mind where she kept all of the thoughts she wasn’t allowed to think and the feelings she wasn’t allowed to feel.

Instead, she gave Ava her best, most rogueish grin, and said, “That goes both ways, Sharpe.”

 

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, however, Sara couldn’t help noticing all of the many, many ways in which what Ava had said appeared to be untrue. 

_ I don’t like you enough to baby you. _

But Ava liked her enough to touch a hand to Sara’s arm when she lingered at the craft station a little too long, lost in thought. 

And she liked her enough to bristle as they were walking to lunch together and overheard the words  _ Sara _ and  _ Nyssa _ and  _ kicked out  _ from two of the counselors from other cabins, who were talking loudly amongst themselves, mindless of anyone else’s presence.

And, to Sara’s shock and mild horror, she liked her enough that it was only Sara’s death grip on Ava’s arm that kept her from marching over and chewing them out. 

“Ava,  _ no _ !” Sara stage-whispered, hoping desperately that the other two counselors didn’t overhear, didn’t notice that she was nearby. Luckily, they didn’t seem to, but Ava, still firmly held in Sara’s grasp, looked livid. “Look,” Sara continued, not letting go. “I devote  _ a lot of energy  _ to making people think I’m not listening. That I don’t hear when they talk about me behind my back, or that I don’t care enough to acknowledge it if I do. This entire situation fucking sucks, but… at least this way, I get to deal with it on my own terms. And I can’t do that if you go on a rampage every time my name comes up in someone else’s conversation.”

Ava shot her a mildly frustrated look before finally relaxing under Sara’s grip. Sara let out a long breath of air, relieved, and dropped Ava’s arm.

“Ava. What?” is all she managed to get out, staring at Ava sidelong, and Ava glanced away. 

“Not that I don’t--” Sara began, quickly, realizing how she sounded. “That I don’t...that I’m not  _ grateful _ , or anything, it’s.” She trailed off, lamely, groaning internally. 

Ava shrugged. “I just. Don’t like when people talk about other people’s personal lives,” she said, quietly, to the air. Then, barely a whisper, “or try to mess them up.”

Sara regarded Ava for a long moment, the significance of this, this one action, sinking deeply into her chest. “You were really about to go after them, weren’t you?” she asked, almost as quietly, and Ava shrugged again.

She turned to look back at Sara, and there was a very small, chagrined sort of grimace on her face. “I guess...I wasn’t really thinking.”

Sara raised an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at her cheeks. “Ava Sharpe,” she said, more loudly now, putting her hands on her hips.”Not thinking about something?”

Ava scowled, crossing her arms, fixing her expression into something between slight embarrassment and defensiveness. “Clearly I’ve been hanging out with you too much,” she retorted. 

Sara snorted. “And clearly I’ve been hanging out with you too much, if I’m now stopping people from getting into fights.”

They stood facing each other for a moment before Ava ducked her head, slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Come on, Lance,” She said, stuffing her hands into her pockets and resuming her way over toward the direction of the mess hall. “We’re going to be late for lunch.”

* * *

They pushed the doors of the mess hall open, talking quietly about the upcoming archery class, before splitting immediately in the direction of their tables. They were nearly the last ones there, their entire cabin already seated at their appropriate table, and Sara wondered, briefly, who got them all situated without either of the counselors there. Her money was on Amaya. A little flash of guilt pricked at her chest, and she made a note to thank Amaya once she was settled with her food.

By the time Sara sat down after getting her food, Ray was already involved in a dramatic retelling of his cabin’s morning canoe session, complete with wild, frantic arm movements, and what appeared to be a fairly significant number of diagrams on a pile of napkins in the middle of the table.

“You’re late, Cap,” commented Zari the moment Sara slid onto the bench next to her.

Sara scoffed. “Like you’re never late.”

Zari grinned. “I’m not.”

“Literally only thanks to Amaya.”

Zari shrugged. “Hey, whatever works, right?”

Sara rolled her eyes and turned to look to the table at lange. “What did I miss?” she asked, carefully rearranging the tomatoes on her sandwich.

“Nothing,” growled Mick from his corner of the bench, and Zari shot Sara a  _ please, not again  _ look.

“This morning--” Ray piped up, but Zari interrupted him.

“Ray, think we’re good to hear from where you left off,” she muttered, and Ray stopped and cleared his throat.

“Yes, you’re right. So...so the fork in the river came, And Toby stuck his paddle in the water, looked at the sun, and guided us all north!” said Ray, grinning as he added another line to the diagram closest to him.

“And then, we all ran straight into a patch of rocks!” added Nate in a tone of mock-chipperness, glaring at his chicken salad.

“Well, yeah,” admitted Ray, his smile faltering just a little. “ _ But, _ ” he added, smiling even more widely now. “He used his  _ survival skills! _ And that’s what’s exciting about it!”

Nate put his foot up on the bench, yanking up a very damp pant leg. “Yeah, tell that to my pants, buddy,” he muttered. 

Sara laughed, lightly, grabbing the mustard. “Better than Gary this morning, apparently,” she said, spreading on a thin layer. “He somehow managed to mess up his alarm, set it, and set it for 3:30 AM. Apparently he launched himself out and bed and got most of the  _ campers  _ up before one of them bothered to ask what time it was. He had them all convinced they were late, were going to get in trouble for being late, and was scrambling to get everyone’s shoes tied.”

“Oh, Gary,” sighed Amaya.

Nate glanced at Mick. “That seriously happened?”

Mick shrugged, not looking up from his sandwich. “Beats me,” he said, and Zari patted him on the shoulder. 

“Really leaning into that paternal thing, huh, buddy?” Then she paused, mid-pat, and turned to look at Sara, brows furrowed. 

“Wait. Back up like. Ten steps.” Ray opened his mouth, raising a finger, and Zari sighed, “NOT LITERALLY, Raymond.” She looked back at Sara, eyes narrowed slightly. “How did you know that story about Gary, anyway? Unless you’re secretly camping out in Gary and Mick’s cabin.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Ava told me? They’re friends?”

Zari stared at Sara for a long moment. “ _ Ava  _ told you?” she asked, incredulously. “Ava told you a...funny story, about Gary?”

Sara frowned, slightly. “Um, yes?” said Sara, slowly. “We live in the same room, Z,”

“Yeah but like. I didn’t know you were on ‘funny story’ grounds now.”

Sara’s chest flooded with a nervous buzzing, her mouth suddenly dry. “I mean,” she said, picking off pieces of sandwich crust. “We’ve moved past openly hating each other, since that didn’t seem to be going down well with the kids, so. I guess, yeah.”

Then, before Zari could say anything else on the matter, Sara quickly added, “Oh, Amaya, was it you who got our kids situated for lunch?” 

Amaya shook her head. “No, it definitely wasn’t me, I’m afraid.”

Sara frowned, and Ray piped up with, “Oh, it was Nora. Darhk.” his cheeks flushed. “And the new girl, Charlie?”

Zari snorted. “Thanks for clarifying, Ray, we wouldn’t have known which Nora it was otherwise.”

“You keeping an eye out for Nora Darhk, Ray?” asked Sara, fixing him with her usual raised eyebrow.

“What?” he said, quickly. “No!”

Zari leaned in over the table, propping her chin on her hands. “ _ You like her, Ray Ray,”  _ she said, voice oddly airy and ethereal. 

Nate made a face. “Zari, that was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen you do, and I never want to see it happen again.” 

“Ditto,” said Sara, raising a finger. “Seriously, Z, just why?”

Zari turned her gaze to Nate. “What is it, Nate?” she asked, in the same weird, airy voice.

Nate leaned away ”Fuck if I know,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

Zari leaned back, laughing. “I don’t even know what possessed me to do that, but it was absolutely worth it to see your faces.”

Everyone groaned.

“By the way,” said Zari, peeling of a piece of sandwich crust and biting it in half. “That girl you mentioned, Charlie? Nora’s co-counselor? Worked with her the other day.”

“Wait, really?” asked Amaya, suddenly intent.

Zari nodded. “Yep. She does some brand new elective--theatre, acting. The kids seem super into it. Particularly impressions, method acting, that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, but why were  _ you  _ there?” asked Nate.

Zari snagged a few chips from his plate. “Oh, they needed help setting things up,” she said, mouth full. “Not sure about her, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah,” said Sara. “I was in line behind her the other day at the first aid cabin. They were out of bandages for the cabin. But she seemed pretty okay. Not too keen on new people, at first, but she seemed to warm up some.”

Mick looked up from his book. “I like her,” he said, shrugging. “She’s got balls. And she’s into fantasy.”

Amaya made a frustrated noise. “ _ Why  _ has literally everyone interacted with this girl except me?”

Nate raised a hand “Not me yet.”

Zari grinned. “But I bet you will before Amaya does.”

Amaya let out a sigh and turned to look at Ray. “Ray?” she asked, and he smiled sheepishly. “Actually, it’s kind of a long story--”

“Color me surprised,” muttered Zari.

“So I was behind the mess hall looking for my cell phone,” he began. 

Sara turned to her phone as the chatter went on around her.

 

_ HRM Ava Sharpe _

 

_ iMessage _

_ Wednesday 12:42 PM _

 

_ hey _

_ tell nora thanks for me? _

_ Um, sure. But why? _

_ she got our kids situated when we were late _

_ She says to make it up to her by not being late ever again. _

_ Your fault, by the way. _

_ excuse you sharpe  _

_ you were the one getting all fighty _

_ think that one was on you _

_ And why are we never supposed to be late again exactly _

_ I’m going to ignore that jab. _

_ Apparently our kids “never shut up.” _

_ Im sorry, doesnt she have seven year olds tho _

_ That’s what I said. She just said “Yes, and they’re nothing like THAT.” _

_ drama queen _

_ You’re one to talk. _

_ Im going to ignore that, sharpe _

_ As you wish, Miss Lance. Doesn’t make it less true. _

_ =p _

_ Read 12:51 PM _

 

Sara stared at the words on the screen. Their conversation had flowed naturally, somehow; easy and light and almost, maybe, like friends.


	18. Just Think of the Fun Things We Could Do, Cause I Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara turned to Ava and rolled her eyes. “Jesus christ, I swear we weren’t this bad at 11.”
> 
> Ava grinned. “I bet you were,” she said, taking a sip from her water bottle, and Sara smacked her arm, lightly.
> 
> “Of course,” Sara said, raising an eyebrow at Ava. “I bet you never did anything wrong as a tween.”
> 
> Ava shrugged. “Well,” she said, “other than be gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Posting late, because librarians work weird hours, but still posting!
> 
> This chapter went a wildly different direction than I expected it to, but here we are. There's a lot of texting, etc in this chapter, and a bit more Ava. I hope you guys like this format, because it's SUPER fun to write, lmao.
> 
> Also, yes, I know those aren't the exact notification you get when you add someone on those various types of social media, but I had to make it obvious what was happening. So please just go with it, lol. 
> 
> Hope y'all like it!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and commenting, and coming to chat with me about this story, and our two favorite ladies.
> 
> Tumblr: iliveinfantasylife

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

 

_iMessage_

_Thursday 6:12 AM_

_ava_

_Sara_

_Why are you texting me from the bathroom._

_I forgot my twoel_

_*towel_

_h e l p_

_You want me to send help? Because I’m pretty sure I could convince Zari to bust in there._

_ava_

_please_

_for the love of god_

_hand me my damn towel_

_Fine. You’re a mess._

_Crack the door and I’ll shove it in._

 

 appreciate it

_You’d better._

_Read 6:16 AM_

* * *

“Chelsea, we’re losing you here,” called out Sara from the middle of the group.

“I’m _coming_ ,” Chelsea 1 half-whined, half-yelled, 20 feet behind them, the same time Chelsea 2 yelled “I’m in _front_ of you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Sara. “Chelsea 2, we obviously don’t mean you.”

Chelsea 2 turned and shot Sara a smirk over her shoulder. Sara sighed.

They were hiking, or trying to. Hiking as best they could with a group of eight 11-year-olds in tow. At the very least, that was the day’s assigned morning activity for their cabin, and they were giving it a good solid try.

“ _Chelsea,”_ called Ava, when Chelsea 1 made no motion to actually catch up. “Move. Let’s go.”

Chelsea 1 let out an overly-dramatic sigh, but increased her pace until she was walking with the rest of the girls. She glared at Ava and Sara, and crossed her arms as she made to walk over next to Deja. Sara placed a hand on Chelsea 1’s shoulder as she stomped by, stopping her from going further. Chelsea 1 spun around, hands on her hips, and Sara crossed her own arms.

“Look,” she said, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “We’re all hot. We’re all tired. We’re all hungry. But we also don’t want to lose you in the woods. So cut the attitude, and keep up.”

Chelsea said nothing, but turned around and stomped back over to Deja.

Sara turned to Ava and rolled her eyes. “Jesus christ, I swear we weren’t this bad at 11.”

Ava grinned. “I bet _you_ were,” she said, taking a sip from her water bottle, and Sara smacked her arm, lightly.

“Of course,” Sara said, raising an eyebrow at Ava. “I bet you never did anything wrong as a tween.”

Ava shrugged. “Well,” she said, “other than be gay.”

Sara stopped walking, staring after Ava as she marched on up the path. When Ava realized Sara was no longer keeping pace, she also stopped, and turned around.

“What? Ava asked, straight-faced. “It’s true.”

Sara studied Ava’s face for a long moment, attempting to discern whether Ava was joking or not. Finally, Ava’s face slipped into a sort of self-deprecating smile, and Sara let out a long laugh. She jogged to catch up to Ava.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Sharpe,” Sara teased, shoving Ava’s shoulder lightly with her own as they brought up the rear of the line of kids.

Ava shrugged, still grinning. “Guess I have my moments.”

“So you do,” Sara murmured, before falling silent.

They walked that way for a good while, hearing nothing but the twigs crunching under their boots and sneakers, the chattering of campers filtering down the line. They watched the line of kids falling into a rhythm, splitting off into groups: Chelsea 1 and Deja; Kiem and Kennedy and Hannah; Lia and Sophie and Chelsea 2, bringing up the rear, Chelsea 2 shooting shy glances at Lia every few feet.

“Uh oh,” Sara muttered, watching them walk. Ava glanced over at her, cocking her head curiously. Sara shook her head.

“What?” asked Ava, more insistently. “‘Uh oh’ is not a phrase I want to hear while hiking, so out with it.”

Sara raised her eyebrows at Ava, swigging water. “Damn, bossy-pants, fine,” she retorted, and Ava wrinkled her nose. Sara nodded her head over at Chelsea 2, Sophie, and Lia. “I think I’ve figured out who Chelsea’s crush is,” Sara murmured, softly, “And I have a sneaking suspicion she’s straight.”

Ava followed Sara’s gaze to the group of girls, and grimaced. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “That poor girl.” Then she paused a moment. “Well,” she added, slowly. “I mean, really who knows? There’s still plenty of time for her to figure out who she is. She might not be straight. She’s eleven.”

Sara shrugged, nodding a little. “That’s true. I mean, look at me, after all.” She laughed, a little. “I didn’t even know I was bi until last summer.”

Ava turned to her, eyes glittering with mirth. “How you didn’t know, I’ll never know. I got the vibe from you right away.”

Sara laughed, again. “Shut up,” she said, shoving Ava nearly into a tree. Ava laughed, too, low and light.

They fell quiet again as they made their way up a particularly steep hill, both breathing heavily and attempting to keep pace. Sara turned to glance at Ava next to her.

Her hair was in a ponytail, today, a welcome change from the usual severe bun. Full locks of hair were escaping it, falling around her eyes, her cheeks. She was flushed from the hike, little flecks of dirt stuck to her skin. Her eyes were thoughtful and sharp, almost moving, as though Sara could actually see the thoughts cycling across their surface. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and she was chewing on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth.

Ava glanced over to meet Sara’s gaze, and she raised an eyebrow. Sara looked away, a pink tinge rising into her cheekbones. “Sorry,” she said, almost chagrined. “You just looked like you were worried about something. Maybe. At the very least really lost in thought.”

Ava regarded Sara for a moment, apparently calculating whether or not to discuss her thoughts. Then she sighed, and looked straight ahead. “I was just. Thinking.”

Sara paused. “Yes, I see that,” she said, slowly, and Ava huffed.

“I was thinking about. What we were just talking about. About coming out.” She stopped, again. This time so long Sara thought that Ava was done talking. Then, Ava let out a shaky breath, and started to speak again.

“I didn’t actually intend to come out when I did,” she said, voice hushed and breathy, as though she was physically pressing the words through her lips.

“It was a chat that I left open, on accident, on my phone. Something stupid. Something not even that…” she stopped, inhaled, started again. “Not even that... _incriminating._ It was just. Another girl, I met online, who told me she was bi, and then.” Ava shrugged. “I told her I thought that maybe I was too. I wasn’t, of course,” she added, laughing a little, brittle and hollow. “Though not in the direction my mother would have liked. All girls, here.”

Sara sucked in a breath. She hadn’t expected this conversation to happen, not now, and definitely not while they were hiking, sweaty and tired and being baked by the sun, following a group of 11-year-old girls just ten feet ahead. But Sara said nothing, afraid that Ava would stop talking, and simply nodded, lightly. Ava continued.

“It was right after school one day; I had accidentally left my phone on the table while I went to my room to change out of my uniform. Then I came back down to my. _Mother._ Holding it. Looking at it, like it would suddenly sprout teeth and bite her, like it was the lowest dirt on the ground. Looking at me, the same way.“

Something hard and cold settled into Sara’s stomach. For all of the trouble and grief Sara got from her family, no one--except Sara’s mother, who, quite frankly, wasn’t much of a mother at all and barely spoke to them anymore--had really cared at all that she was bisexual. That hadn’t been the focus, hadn’t been the point, at all, of the first instance of that discovery. And Ava’s mother treated her like literal dirt under her feet. Sara felt a slow rage burning in her chest, but pressed her lips together, hard.

Ava tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “My father was involved after that. My father, and, of course, my perfectly straight twin sister. Me, but better.” she laughed, again, that same hollowness echoing through her words. She looked up at Sara, a wry smile on her lips. “I’m sure you can relate to that, at least. Except that this sister literally has my face.” Sara’s face twisted in sympathy. Laurel was more than enough. Dealing with a Laurel that shared her face, her birthday...sounded like a literal nightmare. Ava continued.

“They told me that, under no uncertain circumstances, was I to tell anyone I liked girls. That I was...was a _lesbian_.” Ava spat out the word like it was a truly vile thing, bitter and burnt tasting on her tongue. “They didn’t want me to tarnish their reputation, you see. Their perfect, Family Values reputation.” She glanced up at Sara. “Of course, word got out amongst my classmates, anyway, somehow. You know how that goes,” she added, giving Sara a significant look, and Sara pressed out a harsh laugh.

“I might have some idea,” she said, quietly.

Ava nodded. “So, of course, I became the leper. The...the one tarnishing my family’s reputation, the one who needed to be...hidden. Changed.” She swallowed, looking away.

Sara’s heart plummeted further, somehow, anger blurring the edges of her mind.

“I just couldn’t face _another_ summer of that, this year. Of those same girls in those same camps--”

She was cut off, suddenly, by a loud shout echoed up ahead, followed by a loud thump, and a series of loud cries.

Both Ava and Sara jumped, slightly, and Sara found herself wondering--worrying--whether Ava had also almost forgotten about the campers. About the trail. About the world.

They looked at each other, stricken, then both tore after the sound.

It would have been comedic, almost, had they not both realized exactly what that sound meant.

Lia was on the ground next to a deep hole, holding her ankle with both hands, sweat streaking down her temples, dirt down the entirely of one side. She groaned, slightly, and whimpered. Sara could see the ankle already swelling.

“Oh, my god,” Ava muttered as they approached.

“Our campers are an absolute disaster,” Sara muttered back.

“ _Shh,_ ” hissed Ava, but Sara could see her poorly concealed smile behind her hand.

“Okay, Lia,” said Ava, soothingly, kneeling down next to her on the trail. “Let’s go ahead and get you back. I need volunteers,” she turned to the crowd of girls, pale faced and quiet, for once. She looked at Sara. “Sprained, I think,” she said, seriously, “but not broken. Probably, anyway.”

Kennedy ran over, and Chelsea 2 raised her hand. “I’ll help.”

Ava nodded. She looked at Lia. “Okay, I’m going to help you up, now,” she said, voice calm.

Lia whimpered again. “It _hurts,_ ” she whispered.

Ava nodded again. “I know, but we’ll get you back to the first aid cabin, and they’ll get you fixed up.” Ava glanced up at the two girls hovering around her, and motioned for them to come over and each take a shoulder.

“Right. You guys each help support a shoulder, and I’ll lead. Sara…” Ava hesitated, looking at Sara, who waved her away.

“We’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll just take everyone to the top of this hill then back to the cabin.”

Ava smiled, a little grimly. “Leaving me to explain this one to Rip by myself, huh?”

A flash of annoyance, one that she hadn’t felt in quite some time, sparked in her chest. Then, she looked down to see Ava’s crooked half-smile, and huffed.

“Well, if you think you can’t _handle it,_ Sharpe…”

Ava grinned. “You wish, Lance.” She propped Leah up and helped the others get her arms onto their shoulders. “Right, guys! Marching song! Going on a lion hunt…”

And they marched away, a slow, limping group, leaving Sara with five worried kids, a fire burning embers in her chest, and a whole new fresh wave of admiration for Ava Sharpe.

* * *

 

_The Dahrkest Mind_

 

_Text Message_

_Thursday 1:38 PM_

_nora_

_its sara_

_Sara._

_It’s Nora._

_wow, thanks nora_

_Oh sorry, I thought we were playing a fun game._

_you know what fun is?_

_No._

_…_

_What do you want, Sara?_

_I need avas deets_

_Uh._

_her social media info_

_...Why._

_just_

_please, nora_

_Well, since you said please_

_Still no._

_Fine its_

_Because were kind of_

_just i think and id like to add her_  


_Well, that’s fucking precious._

_Fine. One condition: never say “deets” ever again._

 

_deal_

_I’ll give you her Insta and Snapchat. If you can’t find her on Facebook yourself, that’s sad. And Tumblr is sacred ground that you have to earn yourself._

_fine._

_Read 1:48 PM_  


* * *

_You and Ava Sharpe are now connected on Facebook._

 

_You are now following avaesharpe on Instagram._

 

_Lance-a-lot is now following avantually on Snapchat._

* * *

 

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

 

_iMessage_

_Thursday 4:43 PM_

 

_So we’ve reached the “add each other on social media” point of this relationship?_

_I mean i added you. You have yet to add me back_

_Who did you coerce into giving you my info?_

_Ill never tell_

_Was it Gary? It was Gary, wasn’t it._

_It wasnt gary_

_Dont kill him_

_The seven year old boys need more than just mick alone ava_

_You realize that leaves like. One person._

_I guess youd better ask that one person_

_You know, some might call this action friendship._

_some might_

_And some might be okay with that_  


_Read 4:51 PM_


	19. I'll Be There If You're The Toast of the Town Babe, Or If You Strike Out And You're Crawling Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara blinked. “...yes?” she said. “What the hell are you looking at, Z?” she asked, spinning around until she was looking up at Nora, standing there, tray in her hand, an inscrutable look on her face.
> 
> “Um,” said Sara, not entirely sure how to follow up the statement.
> 
> “Nora,” said Amaya, amicably, from across the table. Nora nodded back in greeting, then fixed her gaze directly on Sara. “I was tired of watching you two text each other all the time. So I made an executive decision.”
> 
> Confusion flooded Sara. “What?” she asked, a little exasperated. Nora tilted her head to the side, shifting slightly, to reveal Gary, standing there, smiling widely, tray also in his hand.
> 
> “Hi!” he said to the group at large, lifting a hand to wave at them all, and nearly dropping his tray in the process. Sara looked back at Nora, raising an eyebrow.
> 
> “I’ve already texted Ava,” she said, simply, and looked around the table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. So, few things. First, sorry for no update. I'm feeling kind of under the weather, and also work is eating me alive. The holiday rush is real, y'all. Yes, even for libraries.
> 
> Second, I know this chapter is shorter, and I'm sorry for that, too. It just couldn't figure out what else to put in, but didn't want to skip this altogether, so here this is. Check in tomorrow for a more normal chapter, I think.
> 
> Third, this is mostly text format, so if you hate that, I'm sorry!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented,. I've gotten some truly amazing comments on this, and I'm responding to everyone over time. But I see them, and oh my god, they literally make my whole life. Thank you <3
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoy this one, even though it's derpy!
> 
> Edit: special thanks to yukiyuuki who helped remind me how time works 😂. Seriously, thanks to everyone who helps point out my mistakes here!
> 
> tumblr: iliveinfantasylife

> _Avaesharpe is now following you on Instagram._

 

_Avantually is now following lance-a-lot on Snapchat._

* * *

 

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

 

_iMessage_

_Friday 7:43 am_

 

_whatcha reading_

_What?_

_Wait. Are you just creepily watching me read?_

_ava_

_ray and nate are here discussing the finer points of the aerodynamics of various types of paper airplanes_

_zari is so bored shes just stacking pieces of potato into a tower_

_Even amaya is sitting here playing some kind of animal game on her phone_

_literally anything else sounds good_

_Hamlet._

_…_

_Youre reading hamlet on your summer break?_

_It’s summer reading for school._

_Well thats...boring_

_As boring as Ray and Nate’s conversation?_

_...checkmate, sharpe._

_Talk shakespeare to me._

 

_Read 7:51 am_

* * *

 

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

 

_iMessage_

_Friday 10:38 am_

 

_Okay, this is cute._

_what?_

_Across the lawn. Chelsea 2._

_omg_

_I know._

_Ava theyre taking selfies together with their friendship bracelets im dying here_

_Thats the cutest thing ive ever seen_

_I KNOW_

 

_Read 10:42 am_

* * *

 

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

 

_iMessage_

_Friday 12:46 pm_

 

_what story is gary even telling right now?_

_What story is Zari even telling right now?_

_Shes relaying one of the daring exploits of her eight year olds sneaking into the kitchens to get her cookies_

_…_

_I’m sorry, WHAT?_

_Oh fuck_

_I forgot you didnt know_

_Pls dont narc_

_Z will kill me if you narc_

_Wait, so this is like. A thing? An ongoing thing?_

_Whats an ongoing thing?_

_Sara._

_Fiiiiine_

_Theyre traines_

_*trained_

_The eight year olds_

_To steal snacks from the kitchens_

_...like dogs?_

_There is_ no _way Amaya approves of that._

_That would be a no_

_But theres no stopping zari_

_Why am I not surprised by that?_

_She’s innovative at least, I’ll give her that._

_Wait_

_You never told me about gary_

_Oh, yeah._

_That one ring-leader troublemaker in his cabin has apparently started making actual life decisions based on things Beebo says._

_...jesus christ_

_Ill never feel bad about how were doing with our kids ever again_

_Right?_

 

_Read 12:52 pm_

* * *

 

_HRM Ava Sharpe_

 

_iMessage_

_Saturday 3:42 am_

 

_Im sorry._

 

_You don’t have to apologize for having nightmares, Sara._

 

_You also don’t have to text.._

_I wasnt sure that you were up for sure_

_Well, I am._

_Read 3:44 am_

_We can just. Talk for a while, if you’d like. If it would help._

_Read 3:46 am_

* * *

 

Sara settled into her usual spot at the table at the beginning of lunch. She came alone, today, because they ran out of band-aids for the cabin--again--and Ava offered to pick some up from the first aid cabin before heading to breakfast.

“I’m just saying,” Zari said through a mouthful of pasta, “That kid’s got a serious arm. I definitely could _not_ have thrown an egg that hard.”

“Okay,” said Sara, pouring dressing onto her salad. “What the hell is happening in your cabin?”

Zari opened her mouth to answer, but Sara spoke before she could. “Wait,” she said, then turned to Amaya. “Amaya, what the hell is happening in your cabin?” Zari scowled.

“Oh my god,” she said, crossing her arms. “You _can_ ask me, you know. I’ll give you a perfectly reasonable…” she trailed off, eyes fixing on a spot above Sara’s head.

Sara blinked. “...yes?” she said. “What the hell are you looking at, Z?” she asked, spinning around until she was looking up at Nora, standing there, tray in her hand, an inscrutable look on her face.

“Um,” said Sara, not entirely sure how to follow up the statement.

“Nora,” said Amaya, amicably, from across the table. Nora nodded back in greeting, then fixed her gaze directly on Sara. “I was tired of watching you two text each other all the time. So I made an executive decision.”

Confusion flooded Sara. “What?” she asked, a little exasperated. Nora tilted her head to the side, shifting slightly, to reveal Gary, standing there, smiling widely, tray also in his hand.

“Hi!” he said to the group at large, lifting a hand to wave at them all, and nearly dropping his tray in the process. Sara looked back at Nora, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve already texted Ava,” she said, simply, and looked around the table.

“Oh!” said Ray, scooting over at the same time that Amaya, who was seated next to Ray said, “Here, Nora,” and scooted the opposite direction. Nora nodded, graciously, expression still unreadable, and moved around to the other side of table.

“Hold up,” said Zari, holding up a hand. “When did this happen, and, more importantly, what is this?”

Nate scooted to the left, bumping hips with Sara, and patted the seat next to him. “Here, man,” he said to Gary. “You can sit here.”

Zari shot a look at Sara. “Cap?” she asked,

Ava approached the table, cautiously, slowly, as though she expected them all to jump out at her when she arrived. She glanced at Nora, first, then Gary, then Sara. She raised her eyebrows at Sara, who raised an eyebrow back as if to say “don’t fucking ask me, I don’t know how we got here.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Ava shuffling on her feet, until Sara crooked her head toward the spot on the bench to the right of her. Ava hesitated, then walked over and placed her tray down next to Sara’s.

“Right,” said Zari, looking around the silent table. “So, now that we’re all one big happy family, can someone _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on?”

* * *

 

Lunch with Ava was a surreal experience. Or, rather, lunch with Ava, Ava’s friends, and Sara’s friends, was a surreal experience.

Despite Zari’s insistence that she get an explanation, and Nora’s explanation, every single time, being that she was “tired of watching Sara and Ava text each other all the damn time and zone out of conversations,” (cue the Ava Frown, cue Sara’s Indignant Huff), things had mellowed out surprisingly quickly.

Zari had, despite their earlier encounters, begun to take a shine to Nora rather quickly. Once she realized that the girl had a sharp tongue and an even sharper wit--one that, perhaps, could rival even Zari’s own--and that she, like Zari, sometimes enjoyed stirring the pot just to see what happened, Zari seemed utterly delighted by this new situation.

Sara--and Ava, if her increasing consternation was any indicator--was less delighted.

Because Sara didn’t know what this was, yet, in its entirety. It was friendship, yes, but the sort of friendship that was new, and fresh, and just a little too fragile in its beginnings.

So she sat, and watched, and pushed her salad around her plate with her fork, and attempted to be as casual about all this as her friends were being. But the worry was pressing in around her eyes, and a nervous, buzzing energy had filtered its way between her ribs, settling in her chest.

"Gotta hand it to you, Darhk," said Zari, stealing a handful of Sara's croutons.

  
“I try,” said Nora, sipping what had to be her third black coffee of the afternoon.

Nate groaned. "I feel like you two put together is just a lot to handle."

Zari scoffed. "Only if you can't keep up," she retorted.

"Right," murmured Nate, sighing. "Pass the salt please?"

Nora and Ray both reached for it at the same time, knuckles brushing, slightly, and Ray pulled back, quickly, as if he’d been burned. Nora stopped, hand still extended, and turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” Ray said, smiling nervously, his voice a little higher than usual.

Zari leaned across the table, just a little. “Ray Ray,” she sing-songed, and the pink already tinting Ray’s cheeks deepened.

Nate groaned. “ _Jesus christ_ Zari, not again.”

Nora fixed Zari with an overly-serious stare. “You sound like a possessed child from a horror movie.”

Zari grinned. “I try,” she said, and Amaya wrinkled her nose.

* * *

 

_Ava Sharpe_

_Messenger_

_Saturday, 12:23 PM_

_You: is this weird? this is weird right?_

_Ava Sharpe: Interesting time to switch to messenger, but sure._

_You: focus, ava_

 

_Ava Sharpe: It’s SO weird._

_You: but i dont totally hate it_

_Ava Sharpe: I’m still reserving judgement._

_Ava Sharpe: But it doesn’t seem completely terrible._

_You: it doesnt, does it?_

 

_Seen 12:32 PM by Ava Sharpe_

* * *

 

“Are you _seriously_ still texting each other?” asked Nora from across the table, her voice a mix of incredulity and disdain.

Sara glanced up from her phone, then over at Ava.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nora.”

Ava grinned.


	20. In The Darkest Little Paradise, Shaking, Pacing, I Just Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cap?” asked Zari, and looked expectantly at Sara. Sara shot a glance at Ava, who raised her eyebrows.
> 
> Sara looked back at Zari. “Yeah, okay. Why not. Gives me a chance to kick your ass, Sharpe,” Sara added, elbowing Ava in the ribs.
> 
> Ava scoffed. “What, with those little legs? Not a chance.”
> 
> “Excuse the fuck out of you, miss giraffe legs.”
> 
> “Is this what flirting looks like?” interjected Nora. “Because if so, I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing it wrong.”
> 
> “Not that I’ve ever seen you flirt,” said Zari, “But I can almost guarantee you’ve been doing it wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, everyone! Thank you SO MUCH for all the amazing comments, and feedback I've been getting! And extra special thanks to anyone who points out any of my errors--sometimes keeping track of time is hard, lol.
> 
> I have the day off tomorrow, so I finally get to respond to everyone's comments! I'm super excited about it! You all are amazing, and there's literally nothing better to waking up to them <3\. I love you all.
> 
> So, this chapter.
> 
> I'm sorry. I'm just sort of throwing it at you, but it just sort of happened on my end, too, so here we are =p.
> 
>  
> 
> NaNoWriMo is coming to an end, but there's still a fair amount of story to tell, here, and I plan to keep up with it best I can.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the ride!
> 
> Tumblr: iliveinfantasylife

Sara hadn’t been a hundred percent sure whether or not their “big derpy family” (as Zari called it) thing would continue into the next day, or if Nora would have grown tired of the whole thing by now.

But as she walked into the mess hall with Ava and glanced over at her usual table, she had to smile, just a little.

Zari, Amaya, Ray, Nora, sat on one side of the table, while Nate and Gary sat on the other. Mick was shoved in on the end, perched in some chair that he no doubt stole from some random part of the mess hall. Ava glanced over at Sara, who shrugged, slightly, and shot her a crooked smile.

“Guess we know where we’re sitting,” said Ava, as they made their way to the table after getting their food.

“Guess so,” said Sara, eyeing the bench. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Sharpe.”

Ava wrinkled her nose good-naturedly. “Guess I am.”

Zari watched them as they sat down at the table. “Careful, Sara,” she said, seriously. “You two are hanging out so much you might develop--” she stopped, glanced around dramatically, “ _ cleaning habits. _ ”

Sara snorted. “Like you’d know what cleaning habits are.”

“Excuse you,” said Zari, chomping a piece of cinnamon toast. “I am  _ very  _ clean. And organized.”

“Uh, you mean  _ Amaya  _ is clean and organized?”

“I mean our  _ cabin  _ is very clean and organized.”

“ _ Speaking  _ of organized,” Ray chimed in, excitedly, “I realized we should play a new game of capture the flag! With all of us!”

“How, exactly,” asked Nora, dryly, “does that have anything to do with being organized?”

Ray blinked at them all, looking around the table at their blank faces. “Organized. You know, like organized games? Organized teams?”

“Jesus christ, Raymond,” muttered Zari. “You are a massive nerd. But also,” she added, taking another large bite of toast. “I’m totally in.”

Sara glanced around the table, trying to gauge reactions. “Sure, why not?” said Nate, and Mick made a non-committal grunt.

“Yeah!” cried Gary, raising a fist, grinning. “Let’s DO this!”

Nora raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I could be convinced.” She shot a look at Ava. “But only if you make her suffer, too.”

Ava sighed. “Fine.”

“Cap?” asked Zari, and looked expectantly at Sara. Sara shot a glance at Ava, who raised her eyebrows.

Sara looked back at Zari. “Yeah, okay. Why not. Gives me a chance to kick your ass, Sharpe,” Sara added, elbowing Ava in the ribs.

Ava scoffed. “What, with those little legs? Not a chance.”

“Excuse the fuck out of you, miss giraffe legs.”

“Is this what flirting looks like?” interjected Nora. “Because if so, I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen you flirt,” said Zari, “But I can almost guarantee you’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Soooo,” interrupted Nate. “This afternoon?”

“Can’t,” said Zari. “Ray and I are in charge of dishes after lunch.”

“Tomorrow, then,” said Nate, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, so, quick question,” said Nora, sipping her coffee. “What’s with this Cap shit?”

“Cap,” said Zari, grinning widely, and reaching over to pat Sara, hard, on the shoulder. “Because she’s the captain of this whole hot mess we’ve got going on.”

* * *

“I mean it, guys,” Sara called to her cabin that evening.

“I know you’re up late playing truth or dare, but I absolutely do  _ not  _ want to be hearing  _ any  _ of it, or hearing about it in the morning.”

A chorus of groans and murmured whines met her words.

“Great, glad you understand,” said Sara, smiling wolfishly, and shut the door. She walked over and sat down on her bad for a moment, gathering her energy.

Ava glanced up from behind her book. “Staying in this time?” she asked, when Sara made no move to get up. Ava was in her usual “staying in” outfit--the same soft flannel, the same black leggings. Her hair was down and spilling over one shoulder, her feet tucked into what Sara referred to as “the muppet socks.”

“Nah,” said Sara, stretching her arms out, and standing up. “I’m going to hit up Zari and Amaya’s cabin.”

“Going to get some of that contraband?” Ava asked, raising her eyebrows, and Sara laughed.

“Want me to bring you back some?” she asked, grinning, draping her sweatshirt over her arm.

Ava opened her mouth to reply--with something snarky, no doubt--when her phone started to ring insistently on the bed next to her.

Ava looked down at her phone and frowned. Sara cocked her head.

“It’s, um,” Ava said, brow furrowing. “It’s my mother.” She looked back up at Sara, eyes stormy and grey beneath the blue. Sara hesitated.

_ She looked at it like it was the lowest dirt on the ground. Looked at me the same way. _

Ava smiled, thinly. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be just fine here.”

Sara stayed for another moment, watching Ava watch her phone, then turned and headed toward the door.

* * *

 

The first thing that Sara noticed upon returning was the the room was eerily dark. Of course it was dark in the cabin--they had long since put the campers to bed. But usually, even at this time, Ava was curled up under the covers of her bed, deeply immersed in a book. Sara hadn’t even opened the door yet, but she could see that there was no light peeking out from under the threshold; no warm glow, no rustle of pages, or quiet murmurs. Nothing that had been there, always, since the very first night.

A slow sort of dread started to creep up Sara’s spine as the pushed open the door, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. There was moonlight filtering in the windows by each of their beds, cold and dim even in the summer.

Ava was seated on her bed, clutching her phone tightly in her hands, the glow of the screen casting her face in a faint, eerie blue. Ava’s eyes were bright, even in the dark, her jaw tight. Her shoulders were hunched, tense, and in this moment, despite her height, she looked very, very small.

“Ava?” asked Sara, quietly, stepping into the room. “Is...is everything alright?”

The second the question left her lips, she knew how stupid it was. Everything was very clearly  _ not  _ alright. Everything was, very clearly, so incredibly far from alright. 

Ava pinched her eyes shut, tightly, but didn’t respond. Sara took a cautious step forward. Her heart was sinking, faster, faster, her chest tightening, and she made herself keep a slow, even pace as she crossed the space between them. She stopped, two feet away from Ava, waiting, checking,  but when Ava made no motion to move away, Sara moved in closer and sat down on the bed next to Ava.

Ava’s eyes were still shut, but from this distance, Sara could see that there were tears on her cheeks, tracking slowly down her skin. She was holding her breath, it seemed, like she was trying to press herself inward; like the world was too bright and too loud and too wide.

“Ava,” Sara breathed, reaching out a hand to touch her arm, her shoulder, her face--but she stopped herself, hesitated, with her hand still extended in the air. Ava’s eyes opened, tears clinging to her lashes, eyes dewy and just a little puffy. Sara inhaled, quietly, and Ava glanced over at Sara’s outstretched hand, still held up, awkwardly, hovering just by Ava’s cheek. 

They sat that way, the silence stretching between them, thick and heavy, the stillness weighing down the air. Sara finally dropped her hand back to her lap, threaded her fingers together, toyed with the ring on her left thumb. Ava watched it, for a moment, then looked up at Sara.

Her eyes were tired, and heavy, like she was suddenly carrying the weight of a thousand lifetimes in her chest. She said nothing, just stared, unmoving.

Sara sucked in a breath. “Was…” she began, breaking the silence. She cleared her throat. “Was it your mom?” she asked, whispered to the air between them, her voice still too loud in the overly-quiet air.

Ava drew in a shallow, shaky breath. Blinked. Swallowed. Nodded. 

“She...yes. It was.” Her voice was harsh and raspy from crying, rough like sandpaper over wood, like she hadn’t used it for a while. Like she never planned on using it again.

“She…” Ava began, wavering. “My, um. My grandmother. Found out.”

Sara’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Ava drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “My sister, she told some. Cousin. Then my grandmother found out. My whole…” she paused, swallowed, thickly. “My whole family knows, now, I think.”

Her voice quivered, her form trembling, just a little, as though she was too cold, straight from the inside. “My whole family knows an identity I didn’t even get to tell myself, and. And they  _ hate me. _ ”

Sara felt her heart compressing, hot, burning anger flooding her veins; and she was pretty sure she’d never hated anyone more than she hated Ava’s family right now.

“God, Sara,” Ava choked out, her eyes wild and pained, heaving, a little, as though something heavy was pressing hard, hard, down onto her lungs. “They hate me  _ so much _ .” Her voice cracked, and Sara felt her heart crack along with it.

“Maybe if I hadn’t…” Ava began, bit her lip between shallow breaths. “Maybe if I hadn’t talked about it, maybe if I hadn’t. Been so reckless with my phone, with my stuff, with.” Ava’s voice sounded desperate, now, bordering on frantic, and so, so broken. “Maybe if there wasn’t something  _ wrong  _ with me, I--”

“Ava, hey. Ava. There’s  _ nothing  _ wrong with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Sara reached over and tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind Ava’s ear. Let her hand rest on Ava’s cheek, thumb running gently over the tear tracks there.

“You told Chelsea 2 as much, remember? There’s nothing wrong with her. And there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Ava’s eyes shot up to Sara’s, and she shivered, slightly, but didn’t pull away. “What if there is, though?” she croaked, eyes full and wide and full of so much fear that Sara had never seen there before.

Sara put her other hand on Ava’s cheek, wiped the moisture from Ava’s lower lashes. She smiled, a little, chest constricting.

“Ava,” she said, calmly. “Is there something wrong with Chelsea 2? Or me? Or Gary?”

Ava’s eyes flashed for a moment, and Sara let out a small chuckle. “I’ve noticed how he looked at Constantine too, you know.” Sara sighed. “Ava, I  _ know  _ that you don’t feel that way about other people, other people who aren’t straight. So why do you think that about yourself?”

Ava looked down, uncertain, almost flinching. “It’s different,” she insisted, weakly, and Sara raised an eyebrow.

“Why, because it’s you?” she said, evenly. “Trust me Sharpe. You’re not  _ that  _ special.”

Ava almost laughed, then, but didn’t quite; like she couldn’t seem to quite push past the layers of fog clouding her mind.

Sara had never been eloquent, or great with words, or well-versed in what to do when a girl was falling to pieces, cracking and crumbling, in your arms. But she was filled with an overwhelming urge to make it right, make it better, make it  _ okay _ . Because fuck if Ava wasn’t one of the most unwavering people she knew; and here she was, now, entirely undone. Sara hesitated, again, hovering somewhere between uncertainty and downright fear. Of making it worse, of making her more uncomfortable.

But Ava didn’t. She leaned into Sara’s palm, eyes closed, and Sara drew in a small breath. She pulled her hand away and scooter closer to Ava. Ava’s eyes shot open at the loss of contact, brows furrowing, mouth opening, apologies waiting on her lips.

Sara shook her head, wrapped an arm around Ava’s now tense, shoulder, and pulled her in.

_ “Oh,” _ Ava breathed out, barely a whisper, barely a sound. And her face crumpled. She turned her head, buried her face in Sara’s shoulder, inhaled choppy, choking breaths. Deep, heaving sobs tore through her chest, suddenly, as though she’d been waiting for this moment, specifically, to fall apart. As though, Sara realized, her heart tearing just a little, Ava was waiting for permission to cry, to let go.

“It’s okay, Ava,” Sara murmured, soothingly, into her ear. Combing her fingers through Ava’s hair, the way Ava had done for her, all those nights ago. A full lifetime ago, it seemed. “It’s going to be okay.”  

  
They sat there for a long time, pressed together, Ava sobbing into Sara’s shirt. And when the tears finally ran out, and Ava slumped, exhausted, clinging onto Sara’s arm, Sara had to wonder when they’d suddenly turned into  _ this. _ What had shifted, what had changed; when they suddenly, quietly, became the ones each other could go to to fall apart. 


	21. There Is An Indentation In The Shape Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wait,” called Ava, loudly, from across the field. “Ray, what--”
> 
> “I GOT IT, I--” yelled Ray, launching himself blindly into the trees, grabbing for whatever he could grasp.
> 
> “Ray, no, that’s--”
> 
> Ray shoved himself through, triumphantly. Sara followed him, seconds later, to find Zari doubled over with laughter, and Ray’s hand firmly placed on Nate’s butt. Ray immediately drew back his hand. “Oh, well--”
> 
> “Yep,” interrupted Nate, crossing his arms. “Thaaaaat’s my butt. And this is the jail, not where the flag is.”  
> \-----  
> Aka, the capture the flag game, and Sara is a hot mess, as usual, but I love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. So, you know how days off never, ever go as planned?
> 
> Uh, yep. That was me yesterday.
> 
> But we're back, and it's a new day, and after a new staff meeting, and with a whole new chapter. 
> 
> I honestly had a hell of a time writing this one, though I can't explain why, and sorry not sorry about throwing capture the flag in there. It was too amusing not to do.
> 
> Thank you SO much for the comments and kudos and messages about this fic. Things are moving onward, and I'm hoping (hoping) to be able to add to some of my other fics soon, too.
> 
> Seriously, though, I love hearing from you. Thank you for reading what was originally supposed to be a ridiculous little oneshot and has turned into...this. I love you all.
> 
> Tumblr: iliveinfantasylife

Sara woke up to a heavy weight pressing into her chest. The sun was warm on her face, her right arm completely numb, fingertips tingling uncomfortably. She stirred, groaning, restless, rolled over. The heavy weight didn’t fall off, but instead stirred, too; shifted and moved and pulled her in, closer, to the bed. Sara froze, rigid, eyes flying open in a panic. Ava was there, face to face with Sara, eyes closed, one arm draped limply over Sara’s side. Panic flooded Sara, now, white hot and blazing; overtaking her stomach, her chest, her lungs, filling and growing until her entire body was full of an odd, burning energy, her blood frantic and buzzing. She drew in a sharp breath, confusion clearing, slowly, as she began to remember why she was where she was, and how she’d got there.

Ava’s phone ringing. Ava’s mother calling. Ava, haunted, perched on her bed like a ghost. Ava’s body, stiff and fragile, like glass. Ava, cracked and broken and aching, clinging to Sara’s shoulder. Ava crying. Ava’s vast, sharp shards of self-loathing. Ava, exhausted, wrung out. Ava’s quiet whimpers, and Sara’s soft, soothing murmurs.

Falling asleep, then, she supposed, fully clothed, fully on top of the covers.

On Ava’s covers, in Ava’s bed.

Well, she realized, sort of on top of the covers. They had somehow managed to tangle the covers around both their legs, in the middle of the night. Sara pressed herself into a sitting position, shaking, a little, her mind moving in wild, frantic circles. She had to move. She had to _move, now._

“Sara?” Ava’s voice was hoarse, and rough, and just a little bit raw. Sara said nothing, just bug her fingernails into the fabric of the bedsheets as she attempted to scramble her way backwards, out of Ava’s bed, legs kicking desperately.

“Sara, wait,” said Ava, sitting up herself, placing a hand on Sara’s arm. “Hey.”

Sara stopped kicking, though her breathing was still too loud in her ears, too fast and roaring. She turned to look at Ava, eyes wide and wild. Ava’s cheeks were still just a little bit puffy, her hair falling in rumpled waves around her shoulders, her eyes open and bright and looking at Sara with so much genuine concern and honestly that just made it so, so much worse.

“Sara,” said Ava, her hand hot where it pressed against Sara’s slightly clammy skin. “What’s going on?”

Sara tried to explain; tried to share the reasoning behind her blind panic, a panic she didn’t even know she _had,_ but she couldn’t get the words out; couldn’t do anything other than shake her head. She looked down at her lap, mouth open slightly, a little uncertainly, fingernails digging deep into her palms.

“It’s okay, Sara,” said Ava, moving her thumb in slow circles over Sara’s skin. “Breathe,” murmured Ava’s voice, all honey and sandpaper and a light, echoing timbre. Ava placed her other hand on Sara’s back. “Hey, there. It’s okay. Breathe, now.” Sara tried to draw in a shuddering breath, and Ava drew one in, too. “There you go,” she said, words washing over Sara like a warm wave. Sara shuddered, again, her breathing finally, finally, began to mellow out.

Ava smiled, a little cautiously. “Right,” she said, quietly. “What’s going on?”

Sara hesitated, her heart still just a little scrambled. Being honest, she wasn’t entirely sure _why_ she was so freaked. It wasn’t like she hadn’t woken up in beds before--for far less innocent reasons.

So it wasn’t that, exactly, but it _was_  something about being here, in this place, in this--

_Oh._

Sara looked over at Ava, her voice still a little shuddery, a little heavy, and pressed out the words through her teeth.

“What if someone _saw_ us, Ava?” she asked, softly, softly. “What if they found out and--” she swallowed, throat suddenly dry and rough and far, far too tight. “And ruined it, for both of us?”

And god, she genuinely fucking hated herself for the way her voice trembled; the way she had trembled, shaking with the effort of taking her panic and molding it; pressing it into thoughts and sounds and actual words. A panic she didn’t even know was there, laying in wait for just the right moment, apparently; just the right flashback, just the right fear.

Ava’s eyes widened a little, her mouth slipping open, her eyes softening, sad hushed and almost entirely unreadable, as all the tiny pieces clicked into place in her mind.

“Oh,” Ava breathed. “Oh, Sara.”.

“What if,” Sara began, again, her voice too small and too harsh and too quiet. “What if they saw us and got---upset, and--kicked us both out?”

Ava sat, entirely still, for a long moment, her face thoughtful. Her hands still rested on Sara’s back, her arm. “Well,” she said, finally, air buzzing around each word. “They didn’t. Besides,” she added, looking away. “It’s not like it’s...like it’s going to happen again, anyway.”

Sara didn’t miss the bitter edge tinting Ava’s words, the sharpness there, but didn’t exactly know what to do with it--didn’t know how to classify that information, not in this context.

Ava fiddled with her phone in her hands, and Sara was brought back, sharply, to the truth behind last night; the actual reasoning for her being here, in this position, right now.

“I--” Sara began, slowly, and Ava glanced up at her, a little warily. “I. God, I’m so sorry, Ava. I. Here, you had a terrible last night, and here I am, making your morning--”

“No, hey,” Ava cut Sara off, shaking her head. “No, you’re not making my morning anything, at all. Honestly,” she added, a small, embarrassed sort of smile on her face, “That’s kind of the best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in a really long time.”

Sara ducked her head, a small, sheepish smile overtaking her face. “Me, too,” she muttered to her lap, and she saw Ava’s nose wrinkle, briefly, out of the corner of her eye.

* * *

 

“Yeahh, so, I’m seeing a problem here,” Zari said that afternoon as Sara and Ava approached the usual capture the flag meeting spot outside the forest clearing. Everyone was gathered there except Nora, who had messaged Ava letting them know she was getting first aide on “one of the hellions,” and would be a little late.

“And what’s that, exactly?” Asked Sara, coming to stand in front of Zari, grabbing one of the flags off the ground and twirling it between her fingers.

“Uneven number,” she said, gesturing around the circle. “Well, not yet. But once Nora gets here, it will be.”

Sara looked around, too. Then shrugged. “Give them the extra person.” She looked directly at Ava, who raised an eyebrow. “They’re gonna need it,” she added, grinning toothily.

Ava scoffed. “Please,” she said, crossing her arms. “Don’t go easy on _my_ account, Lance.” She took a step toward Sara until they were standing directly in front of one another, “I play to win.”

Nora appeared, suddenly, right next to them both. “Sorry, am I _interrupting_ something?” she asked, calmly, the traces of a smug smile playing on her lips.

Sara stepped back in surprise, turning to look at Nora. “Jesus, Nora,” she said, her heart pounding just slightly. “I feel like you have this tendency to magically appear.”

Ava sighed. “You get used to it, honestly,” she said, taking a swig from her water bottle.

“Right,” Ray said, excitedly. “Positions!”

“Runner,” called Sara, raising a hand. “As usual.”

Zari snorted. “Like we could make you anything else.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “I’d be a perfectly fine prison guard, thank you,” said Sara, hands on her hips. “I’m just a _better_ runner.”

“Uh huh,” said Zari, with an over-wide smile. “Tell that to Ray’s nose.”

“Oh my god, I _didn’t_ punch him. And we are _not_ talking about this.”

Nora leaned forward, slightly, resting her chin on her on the back of her hands. “Oh, no, please, continue.”

“ _Well,_ ” said Zari, a little too loudly, as though to drown out any protests Sara might make. “We tried making Sara the flag guard exactly once. Only, when Ray snuck in behind her to steal the flag, Sara’s instincts kicked in and she nearly clocked him in the face.”

Ava nearly choked on her water.

“I did, admittedly, fear for my nose that day,” said Ray, solemnly.

“We would have mourned,” added Gary, laying a hand on Ray’s shoulder, seriously.

Nate started to hum _Taps_ , drumming his fingers on his leg.

The smallest hint of a smile slipped onto Nora’s face, and Ava let out a long laugh.

“Oh, my god,” said Sara, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “I hate you all.”

Zari patted Sara on the shoulder. “No, you don’t.”

Sara glanced over at Ava, whose head was thrown back slightly with laughter, her high ponytail sweeping her shoulders, eyes glittering and glinting and bright.

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch up, despite herself. “No,” she admitted, looking back at Zari, whose smirk was still planted firmly in place. “I don’t.”

* * *

 

Things were not going well for Ava’s team. Nate was in jail, Gary was on flag duty while Nora was prison guard, and Ava, their only currently active runner, was in a head-to-head standoff with Mick Rory. Ray, apparently, decided to do what he did best: form an overly-complex plan that involved no fewer than six carefully timed duck-behind-a-tree moments before running headlong into the circle of trees in the middle of a clearing on Sara’s team’s side.

Naturally, Sara was trailing his every move.

And naturally, everyone else noticed, too.

“Wait,” called Ava, loudly, from across the field. “ _Ray,_ what--”

“I GOT IT, I--” yelled Ray, launching himself blindly into the trees, grabbing for whatever he could grasp.

“Ray, no, that’s--”

Ray shoved himself through, triumphantly. Sara followed him, seconds later, to find Zari doubled over with laughter, and Ray’s hand firmly placed on Nate’s butt. Ray immediately drew back his hand. “Oh, well--”

“Yep,” interrupted Nate, crossing his arms. “Thaaaaat’s my butt. And this is the jail, _not_ where the flag is.”

Sara walked over to Zari, and pointed to Ray. “Did he…?”

Zari couldn’t speak through the laughter, so she just nodded, eyes watering slightly.

Sara grinned, widely. “Oh, my god,” she said, laughing, bracing herself on a tree.

Ray tilted his head. “Oh. Well.”

“Yep,” said Nate, popping the P. Then he patted Ray on the shoulder. “Good hustle though, buddy.”

Ray sighed. “Thanks, man,” he said, moving to settle on the ground. Suddenly, he shot up.

“ _Wait,”_ he said, pointing at Zari, then Sara, in turn.

“I broke in here, and tagged Nate--”

“...on the _ass,”_ said Zari, “yes, Ray we know.”

“Well,” said Ray, grin overtaking his face. “That means, _Nate!_ You’re free!”

The laughter died out, the grin slipping from Sara’s lips, her mouth forming a round “o.”

“Oh, _shit,”_ said Zari, the realization dawning on her face.

Nate launched to his feet. “ _Go, Ray, go go go!”_ they both tore out through the clearing of trees as Sara tore after them, Zari’s curses trailing after her.

She quickly overtook Ray, reaching out a hand to tag his arm, when a blue blur shot out in front of her. Sara attempted to stop short, mug dragging along her heels as they dug in, but instead collided with the blur and fell, a mess of blonde hair and limbs and dirt.

“Fucking _ow,_ ” muttered Sara, wincing. She narrowed her eyes at the offender, and Ava stared back, a massive grin spread across her face. Their legs were entangled, both breathing hard, and, an impressive streak of mud spread down the entire side of Ava’s Camp Ogawa shirt.

“Oops,” said Ava, lightly, shrugging, and Sara let out a noise that was half-groan, half-laugh.

“Jesus christ, Ava,” she said, rubbing her knee. “What the actual fuck?”

Ava shrugged again, disentangling her legs and hopping, quickly, to her feet, taking off. “I couldn’t let you get my teammates, now, could I?” she yelled behind her as she ran.

Sara’s legs tingled, oddly, but she pressed herself upward onto her feet. “ _Girls,”_ she muttered, bolting after Ava.

“ _HEY,_ ” Sara yelled, voice winded as she ran. “You crashed into me on _my_ side, remember? That means it’s jail for you!”

“Only if you catch me first!” carried Ava’s voice over the air.

* * *

 

“You play dirty, Sharpe,” said Sara, hours later, as they trudged back to their cabin, winded and rumpled, dirt clinging to their sweaty shins, hair spilling out of haphazard ponytails.

Ava scoffed. “I play perfectly to the rules, thank you _very_ much.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “So sending in Gary screaming, ‘the British are coming, the British are coming’” every single time you caught one of us trying to get your flag is part of the rules?”

Ava grinned, shrugging. “It’s not _not_ in the rules. The rules, to my knowledge, are ‘capture the flag.’ Besides,” she added, taking a swig of water. “It was Nate’s idea anyway.”

Sara snorted. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

Ava turned to look at Sara, shrugging. “I play to win,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Sara smiled, crookedly. “So you mentioned,” she said. “And why am I not surprised by that, either?”

Ava’s mouth twitched into a smile, her nose wrinkling, just slightly. “So, plenty you already know about me, then?” she teased.

Sara shrugged, glancing at Ava sidelong, as they slowed to wandering speed. “And plenty I don’t know, I have a feeling.”

Ava hesitated, worrying her lip. She looked up at Sara, and for just a second could have sworn Ava’s eyes were completely open, searching, studying, as though attempting to pull information straight through her skin. Then, just as quickly, she looked away, still smiling. “Guess you’ll just have to find that out, then, won’t you?” she asked, lightly.

Sara licked her lips, her chest beginning to buzz, just a little, her skin prickling even in the warm air. “Guess I will.”


	22. Our Secret Moments in Your Crowded Room, They’ve Got No Idea About Me and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m kidding, Aves, honestly. I’d never dream of insulting your constant need to be at the top of your class. And I’m actually kind of an honors student myself, so, honestly, no leg to stand on.” She dropped the towel on her bed and turned around to see Ava raising an eyebrow at her, curiously.
> 
> Sara frowned. “What?” she asked.
> 
> Ava continued to stare. “Did you just call me ‘Aves?’”
> 
> Sara’s face flushed, slightly. “I--yeah,” she said, ducking her head a little. “Sorry, it just kind of...you know, a bunch of my friends have nicknames and I guess I just…” she was rambling, and couldn’t seem to stop rambling, because of all the stupid, ridiculous things to do to someone you just barely became friends with--
> 
> “Sara.” said Ava, putting down her book, deliberately, on her pillow. “I don’t actually mind. It’s not like there are a lot of nicknames you can give someone named ‘Ava,’ so honestly it’s kind of a nice change of pace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: CW for this chapter. Gunshots, near death, descriptions of blood, etc.
> 
> No, this didn't turn into a horror fic--it's Sara's memories.
> 
> Hello, all. I know it's been a day or so, so I'm sorry. Life gets hectic.
> 
> BUT, I did win NaNoWriMo! YAY! For the first time ever!
> 
> What that means for this fic: I'm not gonna stop updating, hopefully at regular intervals. I am also writing for two winter fluff-a-thon events (Avalance and Hicsqueak) so i'll just be working on a lot.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments, and for sticking with this story. I appreciate you all.
> 
> Also, a number of you asked about Sara's nightmares. This chapter answers that question. That said, Here There Be Angst.
> 
> I am genuinely going through all your comments, and want to respond to them. And I promise I will! They actually make my day. So thank you.
> 
> Tumblr: iliveinfantasylife
> 
> Twitter: @acheshirerabbit

“Do you always just read for school? Or are you actually reading ‘ _ Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead _ ’ just for fun?” asked Sara that evening, toweling off her hair as she scrolled through what she’d missed of Zari’s rant about one of her campers while she was in the shower.

Ava raised an eyebrow from where she sat, cross-legged, on her bed. “So are we starting the ‘getting to know you’ part of this quiz?”

Sara shrugged, swinging her legs so that they hung over the side of her bed. “Or maybe you’re just a school nerd and I wanted to see how much of one you actually were.”

Ava huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do well in school, thank you,” she said, a little indignantly and just a little embarrassed, if the light pink tint of her cheeks was any indication.

Sara laughed, smiling a little at the way Ava’s brow wrinkled, her lips pulling into a defensive scowl.

“I’m kidding, Aves, honestly. I’d never dream of insulting your constant need to be at the top of your class. And I’m actually kind of an honors student myself, so, honestly, no leg to stand on.” She dropped the towel on her bed and turned around to see Ava raising an eyebrow at her, curiously.

Sara frowned. “What?” she asked.

Ava continued to stare. “Did you just call me ‘Aves?’”

Sara’s face flushed, slightly. “I--yeah,” she said, ducking her head a little. “Sorry, it just kind of...you know, a bunch of my friends have nicknames and I guess I just…” she was rambling, and couldn’t seem to  _ stop  _ rambling, because of all the stupid, ridiculous things to do to someone you just barely became friends with--

“Sara.” said Ava, putting down her book, deliberately, on her pillow. “I don’t actually mind. It’s not like there are a lot of nicknames you can give someone named ‘Ava,’ so honestly it’s kind of a nice change of pace.”

Sara glanced back up, and Ava’s half-smile was back, her eyes shining, a little, with amusement.

Sara smiled back, a little sheepishly. “I mean, it’s not like there are a lot of nicknames for ‘Sara’ either, so I get it.”

Ava grinned, impishly. “I thought  _ your  _ nickname was Captain. Captain Lance.” 

Sara groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my god, shut up,” she muttered, laughing through her hands.

“That’s mostly a Zari nickname, anyway. Just to be a twat.”

Ava raised an eyebrow and placed a hand to her heart in mock surprise. “Zari, trolling you? What an utter shock.”

Suddenly Ava stopped, frowning, a little, and narrowed her eyes at Sara. Sara bit her lip. “What?” she asked, cautiously. 

“I was trying to decide whether or not I heard you wrong when you said you were an honor student,” she said in mock seriousness.

Sara picked up the towel and threw it at Ava. It spun in the air and flopped around, awkwardly, before landing several feet away from Ava’s bed. 

“Asshole,” she muttered, grinning.

Ava shrugged, crossing her arms. “Guess you bring out that side of me,” she retorted.

Sara cocked her head, leaning back on her hands. “I like it,” she said, warmth flooding her skin.

* * *

 

_ Sara ran, dropping to her knees, slipping in something far too warm and far too wet and far too dark. It stained her knees as she knelt, blood, on her shirt and everywhere, all at once; slipping through her fingers as she pressed her hands over and over into his chest. She was screaming, now, yelling his name, her voice hoarse and tired and dying out like the stars, like him-- _

 

”Sara?  _ Sara.”  _ A voice, groggy and forceful and strangely sharp, cut through her haze. She woke to her own wimpers, to Ava’s concerned face, pale and thin in the dark, hovering about a foot away from Sara’s bed.

Sara shuddered, and rubbed her hands over her face, before pressing herself upright.

“I’m…” she tried to speak, but the words fell from her lips brittle and glassy, shattering in the air. She swallowed, roughly, blinking away the visions still hanging in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry I woke you, again,” she finished, finally, her voice overly-light.

Ava shook her head, very slightly, her voice a low murmur. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s never...it’s never bothered me. I genuinely just--” she took in a deep breath, eyes wide and worried. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Sara attempted a half-smile. “I’m fine, Ava, really. I’m sorry. You should go back to bed, it’s…it’s late.”

Ava’s bit her lip, hesitating, before turning to walk back to her own bed.

Sara sighed, still sitting upright. Ava was, too, the glow of her phone illuminating her face from the other bed.

 

_ Ava Sharpe _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 2:38 AM _

 

_ Ava Sharpe: Do you want company? _

 

Sara inhaled, sharply, and glanced over to see Ava staring deliberately at her phone, fingers hesitating over the keys.

 

_ Ava Sharpe _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 2:43 AM _

 

_ Ava Sharpe: We wouldn’t actually have to _

_ Ava Sharpe: Lie down or anything _

_ Ava Sharpe: Because I know it makes you anxious, and worries you _

_ Ava Sharpe: But I thought that maybe something distracting, watching whatever your favorite show is, or… _

_ Ava Sharpe: I don’t know. Just talking, or something. _

 

_ Seen 2:46 AM by Sara Lance _

Sara hesitated, staring at the text on the screen. Because yeah, a big part of her thought it was a bad idea. Though that, all panicky bullshit aside, they weren’t close enough friends for that, yet, not even close. But another part...another part of her wanted  _ so badly  _ to tell Ava yes. To tell her that the other night was the best night’s sleep she’d gotten in months; possibly years. Ever since her dad was assigned to a New Role, to police captain, to spearheading every damn major drug bust and gang raid; ever since he had almost actually, truly died last year at the hands of one of his worst gang leaders.

Ever since Laurel had found her at school last year, run in straight in the middle of Science class, ignoring the stares and the whispers and the protests of Mr. Stein--one of the only times they’d ever talked without fighting--and grabbed Sara’s shoulders, hard, saying in a strained sort of whisper that “Daddy’s been shot.”

Ever since they had run into the hospital, barely admitted by the nurse, to find her dad lying still and silent and covered in tubes and barely breathing.

Ever since she’d told Nyssa all of this last year. Spilled her hardest secrets and the softest parts of herself to Nyssa’s pillow, her chest, her lips.

Sara swallowed, hard. Her fears came creeping in through the cracks, her hundreds of what-ifs spreading and bleeding and fast fast fast. Then she looked back over at Ava, sitting there in the glow of the window, hair wild and eyes ernest and warm and so, so uncertain. Sara took a deep, steadying breath.

 

_ Ava Sharpe _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 2:49 AM _

_ You: yeah _

_ You: i would _

_ You: thanks _

_ Seen 2:50 AM by Ava Sharpe _

 

Sara dared a glance up at Ava, whose head popped up to stare at Sara in surprise.

 

_ Ava Sharpe _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 2:51 AM _

_ Ava Sharpe: Really? _

_ You: no i _

_ You: i dont have to _

_ Ava Sharpe: No, Sara, that was a sincere offer. _

_ Ava Sharpe: I was just surprised. _

 

_ Seen 2:53 AM by Sara Lance _

 

Sara clicked her phone off, pulling a long, shaky breath through her lungs as the covers rustled on Ava’s bed. Minutes later, a heavy weight pressed down next to Sara, perching at the edge of her bed, warm and solid and  _ here. _

Sara licked her suddenly dry lips. “You don’t have to...I mean. You can lay down, too, you...” her voice caught.

Ava hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to…”

Sara shook her head, heartbeats thumping rhythms into her veins. She didn’t know what she wanted, didn’t know how to tell Ava what she wanted, didn’t actually know what she needed, now, that she’d given up and given in and given--

Ava shifted, just a little, so she was facing Sara, her thigh pressed to Sara’s through the sheets. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, quietly, voice echoing whispers into the silence. 

Sara swallowed. She didn’t. She really fucking didn’t. But Ava was looking at her with those same vast, worried eyes and just moments ago she’d been screaming and Ava did, Sara supposed, deserve at least some variety of explanation if she was going to continue to deal with the same bullshit all summer and…

“It’s my--my dad,” said Sara, a little jerkily. 

Ava nodded. “The police captain, right?”

Sara looked up in surprise, and Ava shrugged, tucking her hands between her knees. “It was all over the news, last year,” she murmured. “When Quentin Lance took down Damien Darhk, and his cult.”

Sara nodded, nausea slowly creeping in. “Nora’s dad, yes. Damien Darhk.” She glanced up at Ava. “I don’t actually know if Nora knows that it--that it was  _ my _ dad who put him in prison.” She shifted, picking at a loose cuticle on her thumb. “That is, she hasn’t said as much. But also, how common is the name Lance, really? I sometimes wonder if. If she doesn’t hate me even more, for my dad putting her dad away.”

Ava shook her head. “Nora doesn’t talk about it much, really. I know that she lived with her mother, as a little girl, until her mother died and she went into foster care. But also. From what I gather, I have a feeling that Nora would say your dad did her a favor.”

Sara shot Ava a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know that you and Nora were  _ best  _ friends,” she said, slowly, and Ava shrugged, again.

“It’s amazing,” she said, mildly, “what being social pariahs with less than ideal family situations will do for friendly bonding.” She looked pointedly at Sara, who smiled, just a little. It felt almost foreign on her lips.

“Trying to say something about me, Sharpe?” she asked, and the corners of Ava’s lips quirked up. 

“That you’re currently a social pariah with a less than ideal family situation?”

Sara actually smiled at that. “Touche.” Her smile faded, then. “It’s...it’s actually worse, than that. Dad told me a lot of it, when he was hunting Darhk. Nora lived with her mom, yeah. But she lived with her mom after her mom helped them, both escape Damien’s death cult when she was very young. They ran away, tried to live a more normal life. Even sent Nora to summer camp,” Sara added, and Ava smiled a little. “But then…” Sara exhaled. “No one knows, for sure. But it’s widely speculated that it was Damien himself who sent someone after Nora’s mother.”

“Jesus,” Ava breathed.

“Yeah,” said Sara, quietly. “I remember that summer, too. Nora was 11. She’d just gone to live with a brand new foster family, after losing her mom.”

Ava shook her head. “That’s…”

“Yeah,” said Sara, again. “It’s a lot. She’s really...she’s been through a lot.”

Ava nodded. “So…” she said, slowly. “I know this is related back to your dad, but...how does this connect back to...tonight?” The words were gentle, carefully laid in the air; set so that Sara could sweep them away, if she wanted to, with a single breath.

Sara’s throat felt dry all over again; rough, and covered in sawdust. She looked away, her heart thumping, just a little bit harder, in her chest. 

The entire night, the bleak, frankness of the visions in her mind flooded back all at once. She slammed her eyes shut, as if to shut out the memories of her dad, pale, bleeding, barely alive. But they were burned into the backs of her eyelids, fresh and raw and vivid.

“Last year, when…” Sara began, and the words were heavy, frozen, sticking to her tongue. “When my dad went after Darhk, the night he caught him. It. It wasn’t the first time.” Sara shivered, violently, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around them.

“He tried once before, actually. Got very close, infiltrated the cult, and...and he, he got shot.” Sara swallowed, painfully, a wide, rough lump forming in her throat. Ava drew in a sharp intake of breath. “He, um.  He almost died. The doctor said that had he been found even ten minutes later--” Sara choked, looked away. Couldn’t get herself to finish speaking.

“We...we saw him, before he was awake,” Sara said, almost mechanically. “We weren’t sure, at that point, yet, if he was going to make it. He.”

Sara shook her head, again, mouth flooding with salty bile. Ava moved a hand to Sara’s back, drew light, spiraling patterns there with her fingernail. 

Sara looked down into her lap. “Laurel stayed out front. To try to talk to the nurse. But I pushed my way back, and.”

The sharp, salty tang of blood in her nose; the wounds she wasn’t supposed to see, the rags that hadn’t yet been cleaned out. Nothing had been white and sterile, like it was supposed to be in the movies. Everything was bloody and messy and frantic and terrifying. 

“And,” she whispered, looking up at Ava a little desperately. “I saw him, there, and Ava, he could actually  _ die,  _ anytime, and I know there’s an amount of that in the lives of any family of police officers but my mother just...isn’t there and…” Sara trailed off, again, clutching too hard at Ava’s arm, fingernails digging in just a little too deep.

A soft “ _ oh,” _ breathed into Sara’s temple, a set of fingers working their way through Sara’s hair. “Oh, Sara. Those are your dreams.” Sara shut her eyes again, and barely nodded, chest pulling tight, tight across her bones. 

Sara felt Ava’s legs swing up onto the bed beside her as a pair of warm arms wrapped tightly around Sara’s shoulders, drawing her in, close, to Ava’s chest. 

Something uncurled in Sara then; something sharp and tight, something she hadn’t known she could loosen, until now; a heavy, rotting thing. The deep, dragging weight of last year; the harsh solid weight of her dreams. Easing, just very very slightly, here, now, wrapped up in Ava’s arms.

Sara slumped, a little, sliding down the backboard, Ava sliding with her.

“I’m sorry…” Sara murmured, the night, the exhaustion, finally slamming into her all at once. Her eyelids started to flutter shut, her lashes like heavy weights, her mind starting to go just a little fuzzy. 

“Shh,” Said Ava, gently, moving, shifting so that they were face to face. Her fingers continued weaving their way through Sara’s hair, dancing down her spine. Sara buried her face in Ava’s hair, peony and rose and crisp, paper pages.

“Sleep now, Sara,” said Ava’s voice, far away and hazy, drifting like a smoke screen. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

 

As she began to flicker, floaty and dreamy and almost--almost--light, Sara could have sworn she heard her own voice say, “please stay,” as she drifted, heavily, into sleep. 

Sara woke up to the warmth of light filtering in through her window, casting ____ rays across her cheeks.

To Ava’s hair, ticking her nose. 

Sara shifted, a little, eyes opening slowly, to see Ava already awake, though from the way she was blinking her eyes, she’d been awake for about as much time as Sara had. They looked at each other for a long moment, the morning filtering in slow and sleepy, taking its time sinking in.

The second it did, though, embarrassment weighed on Sara’s chest, hot and heavy and cloying. The nightmares. The night before. Ava coming to keep her company, in her bed. While she slept.

Ava, not leaving.

Sara’s breath caught, and she buried her face in her pillow. “Fuck,” she murmured to the fabric, the anxiety working its way slowly into her skull.

Ava’s laugh, bright and tinkling and just a little rough with the early morning, echoed into the air around them.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” was all she said, lightly, and Sara turned her head away from her pillow to look back at Ava.

An odd, soft sort of half-smile was playing across her lips, her eyes open and shining and glinting faintly. 

Sara felt a smile overtake her own face, and she turned back completely, tucking her hands under head on her pillow.

“You’re telling me,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Then she exhaled, deeply.

“Thank you, um. Thank you for…” she began, trailing off, .

Ava smiled, and tucked a piece of hair behind Sara’s ear. Sara’s skin prickled under Ava’s fingertips, and she drew in a breath.

“Anytime, Sara,” said Ava, softly. “That’s what friends are for.“

* * *

 

“Hey,” said Zari cheerfully at breakfast that morning, piling potatoes onto her fork. “Remember that time Ray got to second base with Nate?”

Nate groaned, loudly, “Zari, must you--” at the same time that Ray said, “Excuse me, that’s  _ not  _ what second base--”

“Ass grabbing,” said Zari, loudly, interrupting both of them, “is a very serious next step in your relationship, Raymond.” 

“Cute couple,” added Nora, voice impassive.

“Uh,” said Ray, quickly, “No, we’re not actually--”

“Ray,” said Nate, cutting him off. “She knows, man. It’s okay.”

Zari grinned. “Well, this went even better than I could have hoped.”

“It was, admittedly, a slight miscalculation on my part,” said Ray, thoughtfully, scraping butter across his toast.

Sara grinned. “It’s okay, Ray. Some of the best decisions are.”

Nora turned her gaze to Sara. “Is that how you ended up with Constantine?”

Gary perked up from his seat next to Nate. “Constantine?”

“Ugh,” Sara muttered. “Why does this come up literally every conversation? Also, how did you even  _ know  _ about that?” Out of the corner of her eye, Sara saw Ava wrinkle her nose.

Nora glanced at Ava, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, before looking back at Sara, lips quirking into a small smile. “I know a lot more than people give me credit for, you’ll find. When no one wants to talk to you, you spend a lot of time listening to other people.”

A sharp pang of gilt hit Sara, not for the first time, at Nora’s words. Nora laughed, a little, strange and soft. She locked eyes with Sara.

“Oh, don’t go feeling bad now, Lance. A lot of it was on purpose. I didn’t  _ want _ to talk to a lot of people.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

“Okay, guys,” piped up Zari. “Either kiss or move on.”

Sara rolled her eyes, Nora’s face taking on a wolfish grin. “Sorry,” she said to Sara, voice full of false regret. “But you’re not really my type.”

Sara snorted, and Zari turned to look at Nora more fully. “ _ Oh, _ ” she said, in a fake, overly-curious voice. “And what  _ is  _ your type, Nora?”

Nora shrugged, smile still on her face. “Not Sara,” she said, before turning to Gary. “By the way, Gar,” she said, sipping at her coffee. “Pretty sure he’s free game right now. Not that that’s ever stopped him.”

“I don’t really think he’s the one person type,” said Nate, stirring his oatmeal. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added, quickly, looking up at Sara a little guiltily. 

Sara raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to respond, when Gary interrupted. 

“Great!” he said, grinning. “That means my chances are  _ even better! _ ”

Sara laughed, instead. “You go for it, Gary.”


	23. Say My Name And Everything Just Stops, I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara slid her hand into Ava’s, wrapping her fingers around Ava’s own, and leaning in until her lips were an inch away from Ava’s ear.
> 
> “Relax, Ava,” she breathed, and she felt Ava shudder a little next to her. “You eat all of your meals with them every day.”
> 
> Ava glanced over at Sara, eyes a deep unreadable shade of blue. She turned to face Sara more fully.
> 
> “It’s different,” she murmured, low and breathy, so the others didn’t hear.
> 
> “Why?” Asked Sara, her tone matching Ava’s own.
> 
> “Because…” Ava hesitated, face calculating, and a little tight. “Because that happened with the natural order of things.”
> 
> Sara raised an eyebrow. “Nora Darhk dragging you guys over to our table was the natural progression of things?”
> 
> Ava shrugged, smiling a little. “Nora’s a force of nature. You don’t just say no when she’s already set something into motion.”
> 
> Sara let out a small laugh. “God, is that true,” she murmured, right as Zari called out, “Yo, Cap, Sharpe. You guys just going to stand their having your seance all night? Or you gonna come have some sugar before Nora eats all of the cookies?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, hello.
> 
> So I'M SORRY, everyone, I know I've been gone for over a week, now. After posing daily, that's a long time. That said, I just really needed a break after NaNoWriMo, and was working on some little ficlets for another fandom, too. That combined with a bunch of personal life shit happening all at once, well...
> 
> That's how it went. But we're back, and I have the next several chapter planned out (most of the next one written, actually, because of course THAT's the chapter where inspiration struck)
> 
> So I'm hoping to post more regularly again.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for sticking with me, and this story.
> 
> I want you all to know that even if I haven't responded to your comments yet (I WILL, I always respond to everyone, eventually), it definitely makes my day, and helps keep me writing. I really love hearing all of your ideas, and your thoughts, and your favorite parts.
> 
> THANK YOU, readers, you're amazing <3
> 
> tumblr: iliveinfantasylife

“Come on, Aves,” said Sara, coaxingly, planting herself directly in front of where Ava sat on her bed. “It’ll be  _ fun _ . Plus,  _ contraband _ .” Sara wiggled her fingers on the last word, miming an awkward sort of jazz hands. 

Ava raised an eyebrow, not stopping the movement of her fingers as they flicked their way through the threads of a friendship bracelet.

Sara had taught Ava how to make some of the more complex friendship bracelets the week prior, and now Ava’s desk was littered with them, ranging in color, growing more and more complex with each iteration.

_ Because of course _ , Sara had thought, fondly, when she saw them,  _ Ava Sharpe could never do anything halfway. _

“I don’t think Zari even likes me, Sara,” said Ava, now, her voice soft and a little flat. 

Sara raised an eyebrow back. “Well, I didn’t like  _ her _ when we first met, if you recall—in fact, she was a complete pain in my ass. Besiiiiiides,” she added, removing the friendship bracelet from Ava’s hands and wrapping her own hands around them. “ _ I  _ like you, and  _ I’m  _ inviting you.”

Ava scowled a little. “I was working on that,” she said, halfheartedly, and Sara rolled her eyes.

“Ava, I’m pretty sure an actual machine couldn’t rival your friendship bracelet making skills, now. I don’t even think some of these patterns  _ actually existed,  _ until right now.”

Ava huffed, a little, but a smile peeked out around the corners of her mouth.

“I...did actually invent that one,” she admitted, a little hesitantly.

Sara let out a low, long laugh. “Oh, my god,” she muttered, Ava’s hands still tucked into her own. “Of course you fucking did.” She tugged lightly on Ava’s hands. “Now, come  _ on _ ,” she added. “Stop dawdling.” 

Ava still didn’t move, and Sara paused, crouching down so that she could peer up into Ava’s face. Ava glanced away, but Sara could still read the hesitance, the faint buzz of anxiety there.

“Ava,” Sara said, quietly, rubbing her thumb in circles along the surface of Ava’s skin. “We want you there,” she said “I promise.”

Ava peered at Sara for a long moment, biting her lip, eyes flicking lightly over Sara’s face, searching for a lack of sincerity there. Finally, she sighed, the smile reappearing as a half-grimace.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, blowing out the words in one long breath. She squeezed Sara’s hands back, just as lightly, and fixed her face back into a small smile. Sara grinned, and popped back up onto her feet.

This time, Ava let Sara pull her up without any hesitation.

“That’s my girl,” Sara said, letting go of one of Ava’s hands to tug on a loose strand of her hair.

Ava sighed, wrinkled her nose, and followed Sara out of the cabin.

* * *

“Damn, Zari,” said Nora, raising an eyebrow. “That is  _ quite _ the stash you have there.”

Zari shrugged, grinning, tossing a half-eaten package of cookies onto her bed. “I do what I can.”

They were tucked up in Zari and Amaya’s cabin, taking advantage of some “all camp” sleepover in the rec center. They were collecting all of Zari’s contraband from the various corners of her room, pulling them out of cracks in corners and between books stacked on bedsides, and tossing the whole lot into the middle of Zari’s bed.

Ava had hesitated when they’d first entered the room, hanging back, hovering around the edges of the bed where Zari, Amaya, and Nora already sat; as though unsure what to do with herself now she was here, where she could possibly place her body that wouldn’t be in the way. 

The presence of Nora had seemed to help, just a little, and Sara had felt Ava relax just  _ very  _ slightly when they’d walked into the door to see Nora already there, sitting on Zari’s bed, attempting to tear open a cookie wrapper with her fingernails.

Sara and Ava had both stopped short, staring a little, and Nora had grinned, wolfishly. “See something weird, Lance? Sharpe?”

“Yeah,” Sara had drawled, recovering the fastest. “You’re smiling, and that’s terrifying.” 

Mostly, however, Ava had been stiff, and awkward, and stilted; glancing over at Zari and Amaya in regular intervals, as though afraid they’d yell at her for existing in their space.

Sara’s chest burned, just a little, and her fingers itched with the desire to hurt whoever it was that made Ava feel like she didn’t have the right to just belong somewhere.

Sara slid her hand into Ava’s, wrapping her fingers around Ava’s own, and leaning in until her lips were an inch away from Ava’s ear.

“Relax, Ava,” she breathed, and she felt Ava shudder a little next to her. “You eat all of your meals with them every day.”

Ava glanced over at Sara, eyes a deep unreadable shade of blue. She turned to face Sara more fully.

“It’s different,” she murmured, low and breathy, so the others didn’t hear.

“Why?” Asked Sara, her tone matching Ava’s own.

“Because…” Ava hesitated, face calculating, and a little tight. “Because that happened with the natural order of things.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Nora Darhk dragging you guys over to our table was the natural progression of things?”

Ava shrugged, smiling a little. “Nora’s a force of nature. You don’t just say  _ no _ when she’s already set something into motion.”

Sara let out a small laugh. “God, is that true,” she murmured, right as Zari called out, “Yo, Cap, Sharpe. You guys just going to stand their having your seance all night? Or you gonna come have some sugar before Nora eats all of the cookies?”

Sara and Ava’s heads both shot up. Zari was watching them both with a raised eyebrow, Nora with a look of mild interest. Amaya was pointedly sorting through the pile of sweets, the only one of them even attempting to look like she wasn’t listening.

Sara rolled her eyes, but she felt Ava’s grip relax in her hand, saw the pinch of her shoulders let loose, just very slightly, and a wave of gratitude for Zari washed through Sara.

Still holding Ava’s hand, Sara swung them both so that they were headed toward the bed, Ava in front.

Amaya patted the space next to her on the bed, motioning for Ava to sit. Ava did, and Zari shot Sara a  _ look _ , that very clearly said,  _ now what was that? _

It hit Sara suddenly, with a slight crack echoing in her chest, that no one else had been present for any of their late night breakdowns.

No one had witnessed the migration of their relationship from loathing to utter distaste to emotional support, friendship weaving its way between the cracks and around the roughened edges.

Sara shook her head.  _ Later, _ she attempted to convey, and Zari seemed to get the message, because she pursed her lips and looked over at Nora.

“I had no idea you were such a sucker for sugar cookies, Darhk.”

Nora took a large bite of cookie. “Well,” she said, seriously, “I have to have  _ something  _ between all of those Souls Of The Innocent that I consume.”

Sara snorted, just as her phone buzzed in her lap. She glanced at it.

 

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 10:36 PM _

 

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: okay so when did you and ava become the type of friends who hold each others hands and whisper secretive shit to each other _   
_ You: jesus z, what part of “later” didnt you get? _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: you realize you didnt actually say later right _

_ You: i thought it was pretty clear in my expression but whatever _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: stop avoiding the question cap _

_ You: look we just _

_ You: helped each other through somet shit _

_ You: *some _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: some shit _

_ You: i just _

_ You: was having some trouble with some things, kind of, and she helped me out and then _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: wait wait _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: back it up lance _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: what im gathering from what youre not saying is that she talked you down from a fully fledged panic attack _

_ You: that’s not what i said _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: but its what you meant _

_ You: fine _

_ You: yes. She helped me out when i had nightmares. Among other things. _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: (…) _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: that was good of her _

_ You: it was. Then she had some family stuff going on, and had a hard time. She also has a stuck up mom’s-favorite type sister and we bonded and i helped her out when she was upset _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: ah yes _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: nothing like a terrible family situation and a pain in the ass sibling to really encourage friendly bonding _

_ You: yeeeeeeep.  _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: well _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: i guess that beats wanting to throw shit at each other all the time so _

_ You: omg z _

_ You: we never ACTUALLY wanted to throw shit at each other _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: sara _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: dont lie _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: its not cute _

_ You: dramatic, much? _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: 448 pm on june 16th and i quote _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: i want to throw my paddle at ava shes driving me crazy _

_ You: okay, first _

_ You: why the actual fuck do you remember all of my quotes _

_ You: second _

_ You: you’re supposed to use quotations around a quote _

_ You: mick has better punctuation than you and he once told me he wanted to burn down the english classroom _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: yeah first _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: micks a writer _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: doesnt count _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: second _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: never _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: death before punctuation _

_ You: literally why are you such a pain in the ass _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: you dont literally mean literally _

_ You: i fucking do, too _

_ You: your shoe is digging into my ass _

_ You: why are your shoes on the bed _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: youre starting to sound like sharpe over there _

_ Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz: shes rubbing off on you _

_ You: omfg z _

_ Seen 10:43 PM by Z “Donut Monster” Tomaz _

 

Sara lifted her head, tuning in just in time to hear Nora say, “At least my kids aren’t boy crazy,” and Ava’s responding groan.

“Or girl crazy,” Ava muttered, and everyone except Sara turned to look at Ava.

“Wait,” said Zari, dropping her phone in favor of a handful of gummy bears. “One of your campers is a baby gay?”

Nora snorted, and Sara said, “well, she’s not straight, she thinks, anyway. She has quite the crush on one of her best friends.”

“Pretty sure she’s straight, though,” added Ava, quietly, plucking a cookie from the pile.

Amaya let out a groan of sympathy, and Zari said, “Damn, that sucks.”

Ava nodded. “There’s nothing quite like falling for a straight girl,” she said, letting out a long sigh.

Sara glanced over, curiosity burning in her chest, and Zari raised an eyebrow.

“Got a lot of experience with that, Sharpe?”

Ava smiled, wanly, eyes a little stormy. “More than I’d like,” she said, and the words were loaded and heavy, saturated with untold stories.

Sara wrinkled her nose in sympathy. She’d had her own experience crushing on a straight girl this past year, and that crush was just mild, at best. She couldn’t imagine the crushing weight of actually falling in love with one.

Zari regarded Ava, sidelong. “I knew you weren’t straight,” she said, bluntly, and Amaya groaned. 

“ _ Zari,” _ she hissed, but Ava laughed, a little.

“And I knew you weren’t, either,” she retorted, and Zari grinned.

“Firmly unlabelled,” she said, around a mouthful of M&M’s, and Ava’s face broke into a crooked smile.

“Jesus, I’m surrounded,” muttered Nora, and Ava let out a long, breathy laugh.

Sara watched Ava laughing, ducking her head, hair falling over her face in a soft sheet. Watched her wrinkle her nose, run her fingers through her hair; turn to Sara and smile, soft and a little shy, almost, when she noticed Sara watching.

Something vague and tingling fluttered at the edges of Sara’s mind; Something tugging, like she’d been her before, seen this before,  _ felt  _ this before. 

_ Nyssa, laughing, head thrown back, Sara’s stomach fluttering with the sound, fingertips pressed lightly to Nyssa’s shoulder-- _

And it hit her, swift and quickly and all at once, like a sharp kick to her chest.

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh, fuck. _

Because it wasn’t the memory itself that was the same; it was the  _ sensations. _ The soft glittering of her chest when Ava laughed, the burning that began in her fingertips anytime she and Ava touched, even briefly. She had, somehow, over the last few weeks, developed  _ feelings _ for Ava Sharpe.

And that was something that absolutely Could Not Happen.


	24. Up On The Roof With a Schoolgirl Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara was fairly certain that Chelsea 2’s world was crumbling around her.
> 
> She had come back from dinner quickly, ten paces ahead of the others, only to shove herself into her bed, begging off any evening invitations for last minute camp-song jam sessions or friendship bracelet making or gossiping in the corners.
> 
> Sara and Ava had exchanged a quick glance, a sneaking suspicion simmering in Sara’s mind, before Lia’s loud discussion with Sophie about her brand new (sort of, kind of) boyfriend had confirmed it.  
> \----  
> In which the Chelsea 2 learns some hard truths, and Charlie is introduced, for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, and welcome to another chapter of I Didn't Mean For Any of This Chapter To Happen But Here We Are.

_ What time is it? Summertime, it’s our Vacation! _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 10:34 AM _

_ Z added Ava Sharpe, Nora Darhk, and Gary Green to the chat _

_ Fire McFire-Pants: Oh, great, we’re adding the nerds, now? _

_ Z: yeah not sure if you noticed rory but we’re already kind of surrounded by nerds here _

_ Pretty-Boy: I feel like I should be offended, here. _

_ You: youre one of the biggest nerds i know, nate _

_ Pretty-Boy: Now I’m REALLY offended. _

_ Nora Darhk:  _ You’re  _ offended? I’m the one being lumped in with these two nerds. _

_ Ava Sharpe: Thanks, Nor, love you, too. _

_ Well, Actually: Nerds are cool! _

_ Gary Green: YEAH! _

_ Fire McFire-Pants: No. A three-boobed alien queen would be cool. _

_ Z: no mick _

_ Z: that would be weird _

_ Nora Darhk: Yeah, hi. So very sorry to interrupt, here, but I just realized that this chat is named after HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL, so there’s that. _

_ You: its ray’s fault _

_ Well, Actually: Technically it’s High School Musical 2! _

_ Lady or the Tiger: Welcome, to the chat, all. _

 

_ Seen 10:48 AM by Pretty-Boy, Z, Well, Actually, Fire McFire-Pants, Captain Lance, Gary Green, Nora Darhk, Ava Sharpe _

* * *

 

“Oi. You going in?”

Sara tore her gaze from her phone and spun around to see Charlie, Amaya’s “doppelganger,” as Zari liked to say, standing behind her in line at the first aid cabin. She blinked for a moment, the question not registering, before finally scrambling to open the door. 

“Oh, uh,” she said, tugging on the handle. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t actually care, I genuinely just wanted to know. These kids get hurt on literally anything and I’m on my sixth run this week.”

Sara let out a small laugh. “Same, tbh.”

They stood for a moment, watching each other, in silence. “Soooo,” said Charlie, motioning toward the door. “Right,” said Sara, stepping through, quickly. 

They gave their requests to the nurse (“Seriously, how do these children have  _ any  _ skin left on their bodies? Yes, of course, hold on just a moment.”), and stood there in a fresh, new wave of awkward silence. Charlie played absently with one of the safety pins stuck in her ears, and Sara rocked back and forth on her heels, hands tucked into her back pockets.

“So, uh,” Sara began, slowly. “How...how do you like, uh, camp?” Then she winced at her own awkwardness.

I was a stupid question, really, kind of a cop-out, and Sara knew it. The peer version of a parent asking “so, how was school?” when they knew the answer was bound to be awkward. But it was the question that slipped out of her mouth, in her moment of discomfort, and now she was stuck with it.

Charlie knew it, too, because she raised an eyebrow at Sara and said, “Well, I had to leave my home in London, and my band, in order to come here and live with my dad. So you tell me.”

Sara grimaced, a little, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Charlie’s face took on a wry smile. “Weren’t expecting that answer?” and Sara shrugged.

“Actually, I was expecting  _ exactly  _ that answer.”

Charlie laughed, loud and hoarse, and grinned at Sara. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting  _ that  _ answer, so cheers to you.” She regarded Sara for another moment. “Honestly, I’m kind of still waiting to see. Nora’s cool, I guess, and...” She trailed off, looking Sara up and down, and Sara felt the whole of her body tingle as Charlie’s eyes made their way across her skin. “...and the girls are cute, too, it seems. So maybe there’s hope yet.”

Sara’s eyebrows shot up, and Charlie grinned, a little woflishly. The nurse reappeared with their respective boxes of band-aids, and Charlie yanked hers off the counter, shoving in in her back pocket. “See you around, Lance,” she said, saluting Sara before heading out the door.

* * *

 

Sara was fairly certain that Chelsea 2’s world was crumbling around her.

She had come back from dinner quickly, ten paces ahead of the others, only to shove herself into her bed, begging off any evening invitations for last minute camp-song jam sessions or friendship bracelet making or gossiping in the corners.

Sara and Ava had exchanged a quick glance, a sneaking suspicion simmering in Sara’s mind, before Lia’s loud discussion with Sophie about her brand new ( _ sort _ of,  _ kind  _ of) boyfriend had confirmed it. 

Ava raised an eyebrow at Sara as they entered the cabin, and Sara shook her head, just slightly.  _ I got this, _ she mouthed cocking her head toward the lump that was Chelsea 2 under the covers.  _ You get them. _ She made a circular motion with her finger, to indicate the whole room. 

Ava nodded, and cupped her hands around her mouth. “O- _ kay, _ ” she called out, and everyone, except the Chelsea-lump, stopped to look at her. “Who wants to have a tower building contest?”

Sara frowned a little at Ava. “A what?” 

Ava grinned, and sprinted toward the back room, leaving the kids and Sara staring after her. Seconds later, she reappeared with three bags of marshmallows, and a box of toothpicks. Sara let out a snort.

“Where did you even get those?” and Ava turned to her, eyes glinting, lips twisted up into the sort of mischievous half-smile that made Sara’s stomach give an odd little flip. “Zari’s eight year olds,” she said, simply, and Sara let out a long, breathy laugh.

“Ava Sharpe,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Turning into a criminal, are we?”

Ava shrugged. “Guess you’re a bad influence,” she said, widening her eyes in mock innocence her voice slipping into something low and just a little breathy that had Sara’s arms tingling. 

Sara swallowed, hard. “It looks good on you,” she said, winking, and Ava wrinkled her nose.

“Soooo,” said Deja, interrupting their conversation, and Sara’s face flushed, just a little. “Do we get to eat the marshmallows?”

“Only if you’re the winner,” Ava retorted, and pointed to the far end of the cabin. “That-a-way,” she said, the kids all scrambled over, racing each other to the marshmallows.

A low murmur settled over the whole of the cabin, a faint din echoing into the air, and Sara took advantage of the noise to slip on over to the soft bundle of blankets on Chelsea 2’s bed.

“Hey,” said Sara, softly, sitting down tucking her hands into her lap. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

The Chelsea-bundle mumbled something incoherent, and shook her head.

“Hmm,” Sara hummed softly to the air. “Could this have anything at all to do with Lia’s new boyfriend?”

Chelsea 2 shot up, face red and a little swollen, tear tracks streaking lines down her cheeks. “How did you know about that?” she asked, frowning, and her voice was hoarse, and quiet, and very, very small.

A sharp crack of sympathy shot through Sara’s chest, and she fixed a small, quiet smile onto her face. “I heard Lia talking about it,” she began, but Chelsea 2 shook her head.

“No, I mean…” she said, inhaling a deep breath, “How did you know...it was...her?” 

Sara’s chest sank, just a little, and she mentally smacked herself.  _ Shit. _ The last thing she needed to do was make Chelsea 2 think that  _ everyone  _ in their cabin knew about her crush. Sara hesitated, for a long moment, spinning answers around in her mind. She looked at Chelsea 2, took in her wide, open eyes, the watery timbre of her voice when she spoke.

“Because,” said Sara, voice settling into something warm and careful and soft, “That’s exactly how I looked at one of my friends, too.”

Chelsea 2’s eyes widened, and she watched Sara, hesitantly. “Do…” she trailed off, picking at one of her fingernails. “Do you? Like girls?”

Sara gave her a crooked smile. “Yeah,” she said, letting out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “I do.” She paused. She was absolutely positive that this was not really a conversation she was supposed to be having, not a part of herself she was supposed to be sharing with the campers, of all people. But she glanced over at Ava, heard Ava’s tense and broken voice whispering to her in the dark-- _ God, Sara, they hate me so much-- _ and she glanced down at Chelsea 2’s face, the vague, tentative hope hovering there; and she decided, very firmly, that she really,  _ really  _ didn’t care what the rules were.

“I actually like boys, too,” she added, and Chelsea 2 wrinkled her nose, a little. “I don’t,” she said, and Sara laughed fully, now. “I don’t blame you,” she said, grinning, and Chelsea 2 smiled a little, too. 

Then, a particularly loud laugh--Lia’s--echoed from the far side of the cabin, and Chelsea’s face crumpled all over again.

“I kinda knew, I guess,” said Chelsea 2, quietly. “Like, she’s always talking about boys, she…” she trailed off again, sniffing, just a little, and Sara pressed a hand to Chelsea’s back, rubbing lightly. 

Chelsea 2 looked up at Sara, again. “How do you...how do you know? When someone else likes...likes girls, too?”

Sara sucked in a breath. “Oh, honey, that’s kind of a loaded question. There’s no...there’s no actual  _ way  _ of knowing, no secret handshake, or anything like that.” She paused, again, and bit her lip. “There are some...sometimes, people wear symbols, things like that. Have you seen the rainbow flag? Or any other flags?” Chelsea shook her head, and Sara smiled, pulling out her phone. 

“Here,” she said, and called up a picture of the last Star City Pride Parade. Chelsea’s eyes widened at the sea of rainbows, pinks and blues painted on faces, happy, grinning faces shouting at the sky.

“Those...those people are all...like me?”

Sara shrugged. “Those people are all people who support all kinds of love, and gender, and…” she trailed off, not wanting to overwhelm the girl with information. Chelsea 2 had clearly  _ not  _ grown up in a house with much diversity, had not been acquainted with gender and sexuality and spectrums and all of the complications and nuances that went along with it. Sara’s head spun, just a little, at the idea of attempting to teach someone  _ all  _ of it; the weight of the issue here, the troubles that might be facing Chelsea in the future, weighed just a little bit more heavily on Sara’s chest and oh, God, she was  _ so not  _ equipped to be doing this, at all. She glanced over at Ava, again, half wishing she had Ava here for backup, before looking back at Chelsea’s expectant face.

“Am I…” Chelsea began, still staring at Sara’s phone, the bright, vibrant colors reflecting prisms in her eyes. “Am I...gay?”

Sara lowered her head, just a little, until she was looking Chelsea straight in the eyes. “You are what _ ever  _ you feel like you are,” she said, and her voice came out more fiercely than she meant it to, a fire burning embers in her chest. “Some people like labels for it, some don’t. Some people like only girls, some people like multiple genders, some people don’t want to be with anyone. Some people are born one gender and they feel like another. Some people don’t feel like any gender at all. You are whatever, what _ ever _ you want to be. However you feel you are. And you don’t have to know right now. You can change your mind tomorrow or in ten years or never, ever, and you’ll still be right.”

Chelsea’s eyes were huge, now, her brows furrowed, her fingers tapping rhythms onto her blanket-covered legs.

“But I still won’t be Lia’s.”

The frankness of Chelsea’s words, and the aching, there, hit Sara hard in the chest, wrapping their way around her ribs, pulling and cracking. She looked at Chelsea 2 sidelong. 

“Hey, listen,” she, softly, still rubbing Chelsea 2’s back in small circles. “I’ve been through heartache, and heartbreak before. And it feels like forever, and it feels like it’s haunting you, and it feels like it’ll eat you alive, but…” she paused, drew in a breath. “But it gets better, over time.”

Chelsea 2 blinked up at her again, eyes watery and red-rimmed. “Really?” she asked, her voice almost reverent.  

Sara glanced over at Ava, where she was hovering around groups of girls, shoving toothpicks into towers, carefully doling out pieces of Zari’s contraband marshmallows. Her mouth was stretched into a wide smile, her eyes glinting, her hair falling gently over her shoulders in waves, brushing her back softly with every laugh.

“Yeah,” Sara breathed. “It does.”


	25. I'm a Mess, But I'm The Mess That You Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m serious, Aves,” said Sara, quietly. “You’re in Star City, right? I would. I bet any of us would.”
> 
> Ava began to shake her head, and Ava placed a hand firmly on Ava’s shoulder.
> 
> “Ava” she said, seriously. “Once you’ve been indoctrinated into this clan, there’s no going back. And you’ve been to Z and Amaya’s cabin. Trust me, you’ve been adopted.”
> 
> A flush overtook Ava’s cheeks, a small, pleased smile playing over her lips.
> 
> “Besides,” Sara added, grinning now. “Zari and Nora are friends now. You really want to pit anyone against that team?”
> 
> Ava grinned, too, then laughed, full and throaty, her eyes glittering wildly. She regarded Sara for a long moment, before launching herself across the bed, and wrapping her arms around Sara’s neck. Her chin rested on Sara’s shoulder, her face a little buried in Sara’s neck.
> 
> Sara sat stock still for a moment, before gently, carefully, wrapping her own arms around Ava’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. I have SO MUCH to say here, so bear with me. 
> 
> First off, I know it's been forever. I've had to play manager at work this past week, and hot damn, if you think that libraries are quiet during holiday season, you are very, very wrong. Lol. So thank you, for everyone who is sticking with me here during this "sparse writing" time of the holidays. With that done, it should ACTUALLY pick back up somewhat in January, and I'm very excited. I'm enjoying writing this fic.
> 
> Second, I need to address what everyone is going to yell at me about, and that's Laurel. So I wanna say first that I love reading the "Sara and Laurel as friends" narrative in other fics, that sisterly love actually makes me kinda ready, fr. And it’s super sweet, since they do end up being friends, and close, in canon. That said, for this fic I'm going with the "they really kind of hate each other" narrative that you see in the beginning of Arrow. Like when Sara came back, and Laurel still didn't like her. It's also canon they didn't like each other as kids, so I'm kinda playing off of that. Does this mean they'll become closer later? Probably, yes. But this is also very much how I was with my middle sister, so it felt very familiar to me. 
> 
> Third, Sara and Ava are SO SOFT, like what the fuck, how did I get here?
> 
> Stay tuned for some Zarlie(ish) fun next chapter.
> 
> Come yell at me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife. 
> 
> THANKS so much to all the readers, and commenters. I see and read and truly adore each and every comment, I'm literally just trying to find time to respond to them all. BUt they actually make my week, and inspire me to write more, so thank you, very much. <3

“It’s Lia, isn’t it?” asked Ava as they headed into their room for the night. Sara nodded, sighing. 

“Yeah,” she said, yanking off her shirt and pulling her SCHS soccer hoodie. She flopped down on her bed, backwards, hair splaying out behind her, arms outstretched.

Ava sighed, too. “Poor girl,” she said, quietly, buttoning up her usual flannel shirt. Sara felt the bed dip down next to her as Ava perched on the edge of the bed, cross-legged, resting her chin on one hand.

“I know,” Sara said, quietly, blowing out a long puff of air. “She’s hurting, too.”

She glanced up at Ava, who was watching her with an almost mournful expression. “And she asked me all these questions, Aves, about being gay, and identity, and I just don’t know…” Sara rubbed her hands over her face, pressing her palms into her eyes, before dropping her arms back down to her sides. “I just feel like...I guess...like I’m not equipped to answer all of these questions. Like I’m not the one who should be helping a kid learn about their sexuality, when I only just barely figured mine out myself, last year.”

Ava continued to watch Sara, a bit pensively, then shrugged, very slightly. The movement caused a lock of hair to fall over her eyes, and Sara’s fingers twitched with the urge to tuck it back behind Ava’s ear. She shoved down that urge as best she could, and played with the hem of her sweatshirt, instead. 

“There’s not a  _ wrong  _ way or a  _ wrong  _ time to figure out your sexuality, Sara,” Ava continued, her voice soft and a little rough, as though she was attempting to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince Sara. She reached out a hand to play with a lock of Sara’s hair, and Sara froze, inhaling at the touch.

“And unless you told her she’s  _ wrong _ for feeling the way she does,” Ava added, twirling the piece of hair beneath her fingertips, “Then I’m guessing you did everything just fine.” 

Sara’s cheeks burned just a little at her cheekbones, in a way that she was sure had nothing to do with Ava’s soft praise, and everything to do with the way Ava was tugging lightly on her hair, fingertips brushing Sara’s cheek as the twisted the lock of hair between her fingers. Sara swallowed, again, her pulse a little too loud in her ears. 

“I...hope you’re right,” she pressed out, and the words came out a little strained, absurd sounding even to her own ears. She fought the urge to wince. Ava raised an eyebrow at Sara’s tone, but didn’t say anything, much to Sara’s relief. She dropped the lock of hair, but Sara’s cheeks still tingled where Ava’s fingertips had touched her skin. 

“Well, what exactly did you say?” Ava asked, pressing herself up into a proper sitting position.

Sara did her best to relay her conversation with Chelsea to Ava, everything from the flags to the overly-personal confession to Chelsea’s quiet, stark words at the end of their conversation. Once she was finished, Ava looked at her for a long moment, then gave her a soft, guarded smile.

“Honestly,” Ava murmured, her voice tinted with a strange sort of bitterness around the edges, “I could have used someone to tell me all that, at her age.” She toyed absently with the case on her phone, pulling the corner of it off, then on, then off again. Sara wondered, not for the first time, exactly  _ how  _ bad Ava’s home situation was. The thought of it sent a jolt of something deeply unpleasant into her stomach. For all her mother’s crap, the rest of her family was pretty understanding when it came to her sexuality. Ava clearly couldn’t say the same--every time it came up, Ava’s lips grew thin, her skin just a little bit pale, and it always left Sara worried and wondering.

Sara twisted herself sideways on the bed, attempting to look into Ava’s face more fully; as though if she could get a better look at Ava, if she could see into the frames burning behind her eyes like photographs, she’s be able to fill in all of the parts of Ava Sharpe she didn’t yet know, didn’t know how to ask for. But Ava was looking away, staring out into the room, chewing her bottom lip, and Sara didn’t know how to ask for something like that; didn’t know how to ask for a part of someone that they chose to hold so internally.

“I could use someone to tell me that, now.” The soft words were barely a breath, hardly a noise, silent and hushed. But they were loud in the stark silence of the room, and Sara felt them, acutely, the deep, lingering sorrow there seeping into her bones. Sara glanced over at Ava, sharply, holding her breath, as though if she breathed too loudly, she’d whisk Ava’s words away on the wind.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when I go home.” Ava’s voice was a little louder, this time, an edge of desperation so cutting that it had Sara pressing herself hastily upwards into a sitting position. Ava startled at the movement, as though she’d forgotten, for a moment, that she wasn’t alone, and her face fell back into that flat, guarded expression, a flush overtaking her cheeks.

“God, sorry, I’m.” Ava shook her head, back and forth, attempting to press herself backward. “I feel like we’re always--I always have issues, here, and--”

Sara felt a sudden, all-consuming urge to make Ava stop, to make Ava stay, and she placed a firm hand on Ava’s arm. Ava stilled, stopped pushing herself backwards, but her head continued to shake, her eyes still fixed on her lap. 

“Ava, no, hey,” she said, pulling herself just a bit closer to Ava on the bed. “Hey. First of all, we  _ both _ always have issues. It’s actually been me with the most issues, if you recall,” she said, peering down into Ava’s face, and the hint of a smile tugged around the edges of her lips.

“Second,” said Sara, reaching up a hand to absently thread her fingers through Ava’s hair. “Never,  _ ever _ think you can’t talk to me about things. I mean…” Sara hesitated, shrugging. “I mean, I may not always know the answer, but I’m. Well, this is kind of our  _ thing, _ right?” she shoved Ava’s knee lightly with her own, fingers still combing gently through Ava’s waves. “Helping each other out as we’re falling apart?” The hint spread into a half-smile, and Ava finally looked up, clouds swirling storms in her eyes, her bottom lip tucked into her teeth.

“We’re a mess,” she murmured, finally, and Sara let out a low laugh.

“We kind of are,” she agreed, tucking a now-disheveled lock of hair behind Ava’s ear.    
But at least we’re  _ both  _ a mess.”

Ava murmured a noise of ascent, which turned into a small laugh. One of Sara’s fingers got caught on a knot in Ava’s hair, and she realized, suddenly, what she was doing. She stilled her fingers, freezing entirely, her chest constricting tightly around her ribs as she made to remove her fingers.

Ava’s hand shot up, coming to rest lightly on Sara’s own. “It’s okay, I...I like it,” she said, softly, chewing on her lip again. “It’s.” She shrugged, a little self-deprecatingly, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s. Soothing.”

Sara hesitated for another long moment, and Ava winced, burying her face in her hands, Sara’s fingers still tangled in her hair.

“Oh, god,” she mumbled through her palms. “That sounded _ so  _ weird, I’m sorry, please, please ignore me.”

Sara laughed, lightly, and tugged gently on the ends of Ava’s waves. “It really didn’t,” she said. “I promise. I get it. I like it when people play with my hair, too. My mom used to, when I was a little girl, before…”

Sara trailed off, her smile faltering, an odd lump taking up residence in her throat.

_ Before she left. Before she took off to Chicago, leaving me and dad and Laurel behind to deal with the aftermath. Before she realized I wasn’t worth her time, anymore. _ Sara swallowed, and it tasted bitter, like burnt sugar against the back of her throat.

Ava didn’t speak, but nodded, a vague sort of sadness washing over her features. She let out a small, biting laugh. 

“My mother never did anything like that,” she said, shrugging. “I guess she just always knew I’d turn out to be a problem.”

Despite Ava’s glib tone, Sara could sense the sharpness, there, the ire simmering under the surface of Ava’s skin.

“My sister has always been her favorite, that’s all,” Ava said, her tone overly neutral, and Sara placed a hand on Ava’s arm and squeezed, lightly.

Ava grew quiet, tracing patterns on the blanket with one finger. 

“You’re twins, right?” prodded Sara, gently, and Ava nodded.

“Yeah. Thirteen minutes apart. You’d think those thirteen minutes put us on entirely different planets,” she added, rolling her eyes a little, and Sara smiled, crookedly.

“She’s older, then?”

“Yep,” said Ava. “And better, and more obedient to mom’s whims, and more popular, and more charismatic. And, you know. Straighter, of course, which actually  _ does _ put us on entirely different planets, in my mother’s eyes.” She paused, wrapping her finger around one of the loose threads in Sara’s blanket and pulling, her fingertip turning white around the nail.

“And she hates me, enough to out me to my entire family. Just to look better to them. Just to make me look worse, I think.” She looked up, now. “My whole family is kind of that way, honestly. Always trying to one-up each other.  _ Very  _ political,” she said, her words dripping with distaste.

“I just…I guess…” she sighed, quietly, now, almost subdued, and the change in her tone made Sara ache. “I just don’t know how it’s going to  _ be _ when I get back, you know? I know it’s going to be nothing good,” she added, and Sara’s hand tightened just slightly on Ava’s arm. “But I don’t know how bad it will actually be. And I don’t…” her voice cracked a little on the last word, soft and knotting, tangled like threads. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, where.  Where I’m going to go, if it gets bad enough that I need to.”

Sara released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, because fuck,  _ that  _ is how bad it was at home. She studied Ava’s face, saw the worry there, now, a clear, solid thing, concern coating the surface of her skin like water. Her heart ached, loudly, her blood roaring with quick, jolting bursts of rage. Toward Ava’s family, toward Ava’s classmates.

“You could always come stay with one of us.”

The words were out of her mouth before she even thought through how they sounded. But once they were out in the air, Sara knew that they were absolutely, unequivocally true.

Ava’s eyes widened a little, and she looked down at her lap, again. “Sara, I’ve known you all for like. Four weeks. No one’s going to want me to stay over with them.”

“I would.”

Sara’s mouth was rushing ahead of her brain again, and her face flushed, just slightly, once it caught up. Ava’s head snapped up, a layer of doubt falling over her face.

“I’m serious, Aves,” said Sara, quietly. “You’re in Star City, right? I  _ would.  _ I bet any of us would.”

Ava began to shake her head, and Ava placed a hand firmly on Ava’s shoulder. 

“Ava” she said, seriously. “Once you’ve been indoctrinated into this clan, there’s no going back. And you’ve been to Z and Amaya’s cabin. Trust me, you’ve been adopted.”

A flush overtook Ava’s cheeks, a small, pleased smile playing over her lips. 

“Besides,” Sara added, grinning now. “Zari and Nora are  _ friends  _ now. You really want to pit anyone against that team?”

Ava grinned, too, then laughed, full and throaty, her eyes glittering wildly. She regarded Sara for a long moment, before launching herself across the bed, and wrapping her arms around Sara’s neck. Her chin rested on Sara’s shoulder, her face a little buried in Sara’s neck.

Sara sat stock still for a moment, before gently, carefully, wrapping her own arms around Ava’s back.

Sara’s whole body burned where Ava touched it, tingling down the length of her skin, shooting a warmth through her stomach, curling like smoke in her chest, filtering into her lungs.

“Thank you,” Ava murmured against Sara’s neck, her breath raising goosebumps on Sara’s skin.

Sara shook her head just slightly against Ava’s shoulder, and smiled, lightly, still behind her back. “Anytime, Aves.”

Her mind was whirling, her eyes flashing dangerously behind her lids, her heart thumping an odd arrhythmia she hoped Ava couldn’t feel.

Because she’d been here, once before; and now she knew that she was far, far deeper than she’d thought.

* * *

 

Sara scrolled through her phone contacts without fully comprehending what she was doing. It wasn’t until she saw Laurel’s name was displayed on the screen, in its full, illuminated glory, that she realized whose name it was. What she was considering doing. 

Who she was considering talking to.

She chewed on her bottom lip, heart racing, just slightly.

She shouldn’t feel this nervous to call her own damn sister. 

She  _ shouldn’t. _

But she was, and she would be, and before she could lose her nerve she hit the call button on her phone and put it up to her ear.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

The phone started up, the phone ringing in time to the wild thumping of her heart. One ring. Two rings. Three--

“Are you drunk dialing me?” came Laurel’s voice, irritation and annoyance painting every inch of her words, from the other side of the line.

Sara sighed to herself, bit her lip, and resisted the urge to smash the “End Call” button. This was already going  _ super  _ well. What the actual fuck had she been thinking, expecting Laurel to be any kind of support in this? They didn’t like each other. They weren’t friends. They didn’t braid each other’s hair and whisper secrets to each other in the dark. They were just two people forced to grow up together, and live in the same house.

Except.

Except, if she was being honest with herself, there was no one else to turn to, really. Nowhere else to go, in this, no one to talk to who didn’t  _ know  _ Ava, who wasn’t friends with her, or at least acquaintances. 

And so it was only Sara’s confusion, and worry, and fear of being completely and utterly alone in this, that actually kept her on the line. 

She could hear Laurel’s breath, deep and impatient, on the other end. 

She cleared her throat, a little. “No, Laurel, I...” she grew quiet, hesitating. “I--I need some... _ advice. _ ” She forced out the last word, its taste sharp and acidic on her tongue.

A shocked sort of laugh from the other end. “You don’t have to tell  _ me  _ twice. But why the hell would you call  _ me  _ for it? Can’t one of your friends help you?”

Sara pulled her phone away from her ear, for a moment, anger building up a swell in her stomach, her chest, her lungs; finding the dull, throbbing ache pressing into her heart, and resting there. She pressed the phone back to her ear.

“If one of  _ them  _ could help me, don’t you think I’d be talking to one of  _ them? _ ” she spat, though there was no actual fire behind the words; just quiet exhaustion. “Look,” she added, after a beat. “I know you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, but could you  _ just for once  _ put that aside, please?” Her voice sounded desperate, and needy, and she knew it; hated herself for it, but couldn’t seem to help it. Hated herself for needing Laurel, needing her friends, needing Ava, needing anyone at all.

But Laurel must have sensed, somehow, that something was just a little bit  _ too  _ off--Sara calling her was evidence enough of  _ that _ \--because her only response was to blow out a loud breath and say, a bit more calmly now, “What is it, Sara?”

Sara hesitated for a moment, trying to form her thoughts, her words. Because now that she’d gotten here, somehow, she didn’t exactly know how to start.

“There’s. There’s this. This girl,” Sara began, stilted and awkward and far, far too slowly. She could practically hear Laurel’s impatience through the line. She blew out a quick breath. “A friend of mine, here at camp. Well. We kind of hated each other at first, I guess. But. Um. We’re friends, now, I suppose. Her name is Ava?” Sara winced at the inflection in her voice. Like she was  _ asking  _ Laurel Ava’s name. 

Laurel cut in. “Wait. I don’t remember an Ava.”

Sara shook her head, despite the fact that Laurel couldn’t actually see it. “No, she’s new this year. She’s my, um.” Sara paused, closed her eyes. “She’s my. Co-counselor.”

Silence hung on the other end of the line for a moment, crackling and electric and far too loud. “Oh, my god, Sara,” Laurel finally breathed, exasperation and a little incredulity behind her voice. “You--you  _ like  _ this girl. You like your. Of course, you like your co-counselor.” She laughed, a little dubiously. “Jesus christ, Sara. Why do you  _ do  _ this to yourself?”

Sara almost laughed, too, at that, because god, if she wasn’t asking herself that same damn question, over and over, every fucking day. Her chest clenched, the tension stretching, stretching tightly across her ribs.

“Laurel,” she said, a strangled sort of whisper, and shut her eyes. She breathed in, shakily, and tried again. “You know,” she said, quietly. “Last summer? I  _ know  _ I fucked up.” 

A snort issued from the other end of the line, a harsh, sharp laugh, and it felt like a direct jab to Sara’s heart. She bit her lip, waiting, but no other noise filled the air between them. Sara inhaled again, sucking in sharp, shallow breaths. 

“I know I fucked up,” she repeated, and the words felt like gravel on their way out, catching on the skin of her throat. “I know that everything sucked, and it was my fault, and” She pressed her eyelids together, hard. Swallowed, chest constructing, lungs closing in on themselves. 

“But my heart was broken--is, still, a little broken and…” the words were coming quickly, now, falling like rain, like the last drops before the storm breaks. “And I know we’ve always hated each other, and you’re the smart one and the pretty one and the likeable one and I’m the one who insists on fucking up  _ every single part  _ of my life but…” the words fizzled out, as quickly as they’d come, catching and cresting and breaking, like the static in her chest, flooding behind her eyes.

“But  _ fuck, _ ” she hissed, finally, the words choked and brittle, pieces of letters slicing lines down her throat. “You’re supposed to be my  _ sister.  _ And all…” choke, cough, inhale. “All I needed when I was falling apart was for my own sister to not hate me for it.”

Silence met Sara’s words, and they lay heavy in the air, crude and pained and ashy; like physical, burning things. Sara ran a shaky hand through her hair, pressed her palm to her mouth, hard, to stifle a sob.

Finally, a huff, quiet and almost disbelieving, issued from the other side of the phone.

“You...you seriously think that  _ you  _ are the only one who caught heat from this, don’t you?” Another laugh, harsher this time, and Sara shivered at the unexpected heat there.

Laurel continued. “I had Rip Hunter breathing down my neck the second you were found out, and then when we went home, I had mom and dad breathing down my neck. There wasn’t a second of fucking peace.”

Sara stared at her phone for a long moment, confusing ebbing through her veins. “Wait,” she said, raggedly. “ _ You _ had to deal with mom and dad?”

A sigh. “Yes, Sara.  _ I  _ had to deal with mom and dad, raving at me about how you were my responsibility, and how could I let this  _ happen? _ Because  _ I  _ was your old counselor, and  _ I  _ am your older sister, and if anyone should know what’s going on, it should be me.” Another bark of laughter. “Never mind that I’m literally the last person who ever knows what’s going on with you.”

Sara blinked. “I’m sorry, are they aware that I’m a human being with my  _ own  _ autonomy?”

Laurel snorted. “Not really, no. Mom and dad didn’t even want to let you come back this year, you know.” Sara inhaled, sharply.

_ “What?” _ she whispered, anger pulsing, loudly, through her veins, roaring dully behind her eyes. “What the  _ hell? _ Like that’s a fucking solution, I…” she shook her head again, to herself, and let out a half-growl. “What made them change their mind?”

A soft, quiet laugh echoed through the line. “Yeah, you know how you said all you needed was a sister?”

Sara swallowed, the anger fizzling into a dull simmer. She let out a strange sort of sigh, a quiet “Oh,” blowing out between her lips.

“Yeah,” said Laurel, equally as quiet, now. “So maybe I wasn’t the friend you wanted, Sara. But I was being your sister.”

Sara blinked quickly, fighting the burning behind her eyes, the lump pressing into her throat.

“And Sara?” Laurel added. “For what it’s worth? I really am sorry you got your heart broken.”


	26. I Got Issues and Chips on Both Of My Shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Soooo,” she said, drawing out the “o.” “You know how I said that I wasn’t sure about Charlie?” Her voice was a slight hiss, clearly an attempt to not shout in front of the sleeping campers, though Sara was pretty sure that the attempt didn’t really count if you entered the room by slamming the door into the wall.
> 
> “Um,” said Ava, uncertainty in her voice. Sara ignored the question altogether.
> 
> “What the fuck, Z?” she said, scowling deeply, crossing her arms across her chest. She felt Ava press herself back up against her shoulder, having now retrieved her phone, and her arm tingled lightly where Ava’s skin pressed into her own. Zari stopped pacing and turned to look at Sara, hands pressed into her hips.
> 
> “Charlie,” she repeated, her eyes narrowed. A strand of hair came loose and fell into her eyes.
> 
> “Before, at the lunch table, a couple of weeks ago? When I told you I’d met Charlie and wasn’t sure about her?” she pressed the words out through her teeth as though they were causing her actual discomfort. “Well, now I am sure.”
> 
> She blew at the strand of hair in her eyes. “I’m absolutely, one hundred percent sure that she’s a pain in the ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so...yeah.
> 
> We're back.
> 
> Not going to lie, it's been a really hard couple of weeks. I've had a TON of work stuff to do outside of work (being a librarian is super real, y'all). I got a new, full time version of my job. The Mock Printz was today. It's just been...a lot.
> 
> So I want to thank each and every one of you for sticking with me, and those who keep reading. I truly appreciate it. I'm done with all that, at least, so I'm really hoping to post more frequently again.
> 
> I know this is a bit of a filler chapter, but I kind of needed it to get my groove back, and also, kind of maybe set up Zarlie??? Maybe? We'll see.
> 
> I have part of next chapter written, and things are...progressing. I know, the slow burn kills. I'm glad some of you are fans, though. <3\. I think something major will happen in the next chapter (as far as progression goes), or the one after that, so stay tuned.
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL, I really, really do. Extra thank you to all of you who have reached out to me.
> 
> Tumblr: iliveinfantasylife. Come visit me!

Sara fumbled with her phone, flashlight glancing wildly off the walls of their cabin as she attempted to maneuver the door open with one hand. One of the girls--Sophie, maybe?--let out along groan, and shuffled under the blanket. She paused, but no one spoke, or sat up. Sara released a breath, shivering, slightly, and tucked the phone under her chin, and turned the knob with one hand. She did an awkward sort of hip-check, shoving the door open as best she could without dropping her phone or launching her bow awkwardly off her back. She pressed herself through the door, wincing slightly as the door let out the loud, dying animal sound of slightly rusty hinges, and shoved the door closed behind her. 

“Hey,” a voice said, warm and soft and draping like velvet over Sara’s cold form. Sara felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward.

She retrieved the phone from under her chin and blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light of the room. Ava was perched on her bed, chin resting on her knees, scrolling through her phone. Sara ducked her head, a small smile forming on her lips, and walked over. 

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and Ava lifted her head. She tilted her head very slightly at the bow and quiver strung across Sara’s back, and raised an eyebrow. Sara shot her a crooked, sheepish smile.

“Missed you at dinner,” Ava said, lightly, though there was a vague hint of a question there.

Sara paused. “I was…” she began. Paused again. 

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go to dinner after her conversation with Laurel. There had been too much  _ there,  _ too much swirling and spinning of things in her head, too many quick thoughts and sharp bursts of rage slipping into the space in her skull until the pressure pressed hot and white behind her eyes.

Hadn’t been able to fathom the thought of the thick, heavy noise of the mess hall, the quick chatter and sharp words between her and her friends.

Seeing Ava.

Not when her heart felt too raw, too soft around the edges. Sara bit her lip. Ava nodded, so slightly that Sara wasn’t entirely sure that Ava was aware she was doing it.

“Wanna talk about it?” was all she asked, softly, and Sara shook her head, stomach lurching at the idea of attempting to explain her conversation with Laurel.  _ Sure, Ava, I had an argument with my sister all about how much I like you, and how wildly not allowed that is. _

No. No, thanks. She shook her head. 

“Not…not really,” she murmured, and Ava nodded, lightly. A wave of gratitude and relief washed over Sara, and Ava patted the space next to her on the bed. Sara hesitated for a moment, chewing her lip, before carefully placing herself next to Ava on the bed.

Ava turned to look at Sara, reaching up to tuck a lock of loose hair behind Sara’s ear. “Well, I hope the archery range helped with whatever it is,” she said, softly, before turning back to her phone.

Sara suppressed a shiver, shockwaves spreading from where Ava’s fingers had brushed her ear.  _ Get it together, Lance.  _

She watched Ava flick her thumb across the screen, blue light shining highlights on her cheeks, along the bridge of her nose. Ava raised an eyebrow, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“Just going to watch me, then?” she teased, and Sara flushed, wrinkling her nose.

“Sorry, I. I’m not used to friends who will just...let something lie, I guess.” She shrugged. “I love and adore them, but my god, they need an answer to  _ everything. _ ”

Ava laughed, lightly. “That does sound like them, yes,” she admitted, grinning. Then, she turned her attention back to Sara, a serious expression flitting across her face. “Honestly, I make it my business not to pry,” she said, and there was something heavy, there, something weighted just behind her tongue. Sara swallowed.

“Well,” she said, nudging Ava’s shoulder with her own. “I’m grateful for it.”

Ava leaned down to rest her head on Sara’s shoulder, and Sara pulled a half-finished friendship bracelet out of her pocket. Ava laughed when she saw it.  

“Making yourself a friendship bracelet?” she asked, eyebrow raised, and Sara snorted. 

“Hardly,” she said, twisting the threads around her fingers. “This one’s for Chelsea 1. She somehow managed to pawn finishing it off on me.”

Ava snorted. “You should just keep it for yourself, then, if she’s not willing to work on it herself.”

Sara grinned. “Yeah, I’ll give it to you, so that you can deal with Chelsea 1 whining about when she sees that you’re wearing  _ her  _ friendship bracelet.”

Ava wrinkled her nose, head still resting on Sara’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no tha--”

A loud, echoing slam rang out from their doorway. Sara gasped, nearly launching the friendship bracelet across the room. Another loud  _ thump _ echoed from right next to her, and she felt Ava’s head pop up off her shoulder. She turned to see Ava, limbs flailing, attempting to keep herself on the bed. Her phone was face down on the floor by their feet, clearly having been dropped  at the intrusion. Sara stifled a snort as Ava finally got herself balanced, a frown overtaking her features, and Sara whipped her head back to look at the doorway.

Zari, wearing her own SCHS soccer jersey, a scowl perched on her face, was pacing the same three foot square of space in front of their doorway. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, her eyebrows knit together, and her ponytail bounced lightly with every step. Before Sara had a chance to react, Zari opened her mouth to speak.

“Soooo,” she said, drawing out the “o.” “You know how I said that I wasn’t sure about Charlie?” Her voice was a slight hiss, clearly an attempt to not shout in front of the sleeping campers, though Sara was pretty sure that the attempt didn’t really count if you entered the room by slamming the door into the wall.

“Um,” said Ava, uncertainty in her voice. Sara ignored the question altogether.

“What the  _ fuck, _ Z?” she said, scowling deeply, crossing her arms across her chest. She felt Ava press herself back up against her shoulder, having now retrieved her phone, and her arm tingled lightly where Ava’s skin pressed into her own. Zari stopped pacing and turned to look at Sara, hands pressed into her hips.

“Charlie,” she repeated, her eyes narrowed. A strand of hair came loose and fell into her eyes.

“Before, at the lunch table, a couple of weeks ago? When I told you I’d met Charlie and wasn’t sure about her?” she pressed the words out through her teeth as though they were causing her actual discomfort. “Well, now I  _ am  _ sure.” 

She blew at the strand of hair in her eyes. “I’m absolutely, one hundred percent  _ sure _ that she’s a  _ pain _ in the  _ ass _ .”

Sara blinked at Zari for a long moment.

“Charlie like...like Nora’s cabinmate, Charlie?” asked Ava, tentatively, and her hot breath blew across Sara’s ear, making her inhale, quietly.

Zari pressed down on her nose with an over exaggerated motion, as though they were playing a game of Charades. “That’s the one,” she said, sarcasm lacing its way between her words.

Sara shook her head, slightly. “Zari, what--” she began, but Zari cut her off.

“She’s annoying,” Zari said, holding up one finger as though ticking off points for a debate. “She’s conceited, and self-serving,” Two more fingers. 

Zari made her way over to Sara’s dresser and started picking things up off it, looking behind them, setting them back down, as though looking for something; it made Sara antsy and itchy. “And just won’t listen, I swear she--”

Sara held up a hand. “ _ Zari _ ,” she said loudly, cutting Zari off this time. “What the fuck are you  _ doing?” _

Zari paused her pacing, and turned to look at Sara, brows furrowed, still clutching the last thing she’d picked up from Sara’s dresser--Ava’s calculus text. “What do you mean?”

Sara raised an eyebrow, and Ava snorted a quiet laugh beside her. “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t actually your room.”

Zari rolled her eyes, hard, and pursed her lips. “Wow, really, Sara? And here I thought you looked  _ just  _ like Amaya.”

“Amaya already has one doppelganger, and it’s sure as hell not me,” muttered Ava, and Zari’s eyes narrowed, gearing up for another rant.

“ _ In that case,” _ Sara said, deliberately, before Zari could speak, “Why the hell are you barging into our room at…” she glanced down at Ava’s phone screen--unscathed from the fall--and back up at Zari. “At 10:14 PM, rambling on about Nora’s roommate, and fondling every single item on my dresser?”

Zari frowned, slightly, and looked down at her hands, as though only now realizing that she was holding the textbook. She let out a loud snort.

“What…” she muttered, incredulous laughter flitting around the edges of her words. She flipped open the book cover and traced the title words with her fingers, before fixing Sara with an amused stare. “Calculus, Sara, really? For summer camp? I know you’re a school nerd, but like--”

Sara’s felt color rise in her cheekbones, a scowl overtaking her features/

“ _ Focus, Z,  _ really,” she said, glowering, and Zari grinned. She let the textbook fall back down onto the Sara’s dresser with a dull  _ thump _ .

“So...?“ Sara asked, drawing out the end of the o, and gesturing toward the door. Zari sighed.

“This...isn’t my cabin,” she groaned, quietly, and Sara stared.

“For the love of...yes,  _ very _ astute, Z,” she said slowly, as though talking to a particularly stubborn toddler. Zari huffed.

“What I  _ mean  _ is that you don’t have the appropriate snacks to accompany this story.”

Sara huffed a laugh. “Jesus christ, Z, not everyone trains their campers to…” but trailed off as a bag of marshmallows flew past her face, headed right for Zari. Zari caught it neatly, and Sara glanced over at Ava, who shrugged.

“I had leftover from the marshmallow towers,” she said, nonchalantly, though a small smile played around the corners of her lips.

Zari regarded Ava, grinning, and turned her grin to Sara. “She can stay,” she announced, plopping down on the floor cross-legged in front of them, and tearing off a corner of the bag with her fingernails. Ava wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, I was already planning on it, but thanks for the permission.” 

Zari’s grin widened. “Anytime, Sharpe.”

Sara shook her head. “Yeah, okay, Z, now that you’re no longer hangry, and you have both bonded over camp contraband,” she fixed Ava with a look, and Ava just shot her a crooked grin that sent Sara’s stomach into knots. Sara swallowed the sudden wave of affection flooding into her chest, and cleared her throat, lightly.

“Right. Uh, anyway. Care to tell us exactly why you’re here on this fine camp evening, rambling about Charlie?

Zari blew out a breath, running her fingers through her hair. “Okay. So, Ray had to go to the med cabin, right? Which meant that I needed a new co-counselor to help me with survival skills for the day.” She popped a marshmallow into her mouth, chewing slowly.

“So Charlie gets sent over, because apparently it’s easier for one counselor to run drama club or whatever than one counselor to run survival skills class.” She picked up a marshmallow and started squeezing it between her fingers, a scowl already forming on her face. 

“And I’m there already, and I’m trying to teach them about storing food and shit, right? So shows up, and what does Charlie do?” she cleared her throat, slipping her voice into a truly atrocious take on an English accent. “‘They’re falling asleep, over here. Hey kids, do you like  _ painting? _ ’” 

She scowled more deeply, tearing the marshmallow in her hand into tiny pieces, popping them into her mouth one by one. “And yeah, of course the little traitors all jump on  _ that  _ idea. And before I know it, she spends  _ two hours _ teaching them camouflage.  _ Two fucking hours.  _ Two hours in which I was supposed to be showing them actual survival skills, and she’s training them to paint themselves into bushes and trees, like they’re in the damn Hunger Games or something. _ ” _ She scoffed, tearing off a piece of marshmallow with her teeth.

“Seriously,” she mumbled through her sticky mouthful. “How can one person be  _ so infuriating?” _

Sara shot a glance over at Ava, who stared back, a bit sheepishly. At their silence, Zari looked up at them both, eyes flitting between them, before pursing her lips. 

“It’s  _ different, _ ” she sighed, rolling her eyes a little indulgently. “I know you might find this hard to believe, Cap, given your track record, but not every single person you initially hate ends up becoming your best friend.”

Ava snorted, and Sara scowled, her cheeks flushing a little. Zari grinned, her eyes raking over their room meaningfully, eyes catching on Sara’s SCHS sweatshirt draped across the foot of Ava’s bed, Ava’s shoes tossed haphazardly behind Sara’s bed.

She turned her gaze back to Sara, eyebrow raised, and gave her a long, almost imperceptive stare that made Sara stiffen and look away.

“So, yeah,” Zari added, finally, after a long pause. “Definitely different.”

* * *

 

_ What time is it? Summertime, it’s our Vacation! _

_ Messenger _

 

_ 11:02 AM _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: Guys _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: I just realized _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: Today marks the official “halfway through camp” mark _

 

_ You: well you know what that means _

 

_ Gary Green: That we’re halfway through camp! _

 

_ Nora Darhk: Thanks, Gary. I’m sure that’s exactly what Sara meant. _

 

_ Well, Actually: Lake trip? _

 

_ You: y e p _

 

_ Well, Actually: LAKE TRIP! _

 

_ Z: yeah never mind that today is like _

 

_ Z: the coldest fucking day of summer like _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: Come oooooon, Z _

 

_ Pretty-Boy: It’ll be fun _

 

_ Ava Sharpe: And what, exactly, is a lake trip? _

 

_ You: stop giving me that look ava _

 

_ You: its not like its something dangerous _

 

_ Nora Darhk: It’s when they all sneak out of their cabins in the wee hours of the morning to go jump in the lake and swim around for a while. _

 

_ Well, Actually: … _

 

_ Well, Actually: How do you know about that? _

 

_ Nora Darhk: Yeah, really? You guys aren’t that subtle, hate to break it to you. _   
  
  


_ Z: well damn _

 

_ Z: how long have you known _

 

_ Nora Darhk: Since the first summer they went--we were all nine, I believe. Before your time. _

 

_ Ava Sharpe: ...THAT’S not dangerous, Sara? Really? _

_ You: cmon aves _

_ You: its fun _

_ Z: wait wait _

 

_ Z: you have a nickname for her _

_ You: fuck off Z _

 

_ Nora Darhk: Well, that’s just fucking precious. _

 

_ Ava Sharpe: Oh good lord _

 

_ Ava Sharpe: I’m extracting myself from this conversation. _

 

_ Nora Darhk changed Ava Sharpe’s name to “Aves” _

_ You changed Nora Darhk’s name to “Just Why” _

 

_ Seen 11:20 AM by Pretty-Boy, Z, Well, Actually, Fire McFire-Pants, Captain Lance, Gary Green, Nora Darhk, Ava Sharpe _


End file.
